


Roses and Thorns

by Meridel



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Deadly Potions Ingredients, Drama, Eventual Hackle, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Mystery, Slow-ish burn, The Trio Saves the Day, friends-to-lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridel/pseuds/Meridel
Summary: When a Hecate is exposed to a dangerous and deadly plant, it's up to Ada to rescue her before Hecate's powers are lost.





	1. Pravum diabolusfolius

The spring break at Cackles saw the castle practically empty that year. All of the staff, save Hecate and Ada, had left for the holiday and Hecate privately delighted in this. She had been longing for time to devote herself to her latest potions experiment and in the absence of the girls and her colleagues she was able to be consumed by her research. She was close to a break through, she was sure. She could feel it.

She'd concluded the some of her present difficulties with it could only be solved by a better source of _firtrius gormorui,_ and she was certain her personal supply in the Blackmire Grove would prove more potent than what currently lay in the store cupboards. Before leaving however, she transferred herself to the door of Ada's study to inform her head mistresses of her plan.

Ada smiled at Hecate's enthusiasm and particularity about ingredient quality. "It a lovely afternoon for flying," she remarked. "Though I fear the weather is going to turn tonight."

"It won't be nearly that long," promised Hecate. She peered at Ada, arching an eyebrow. "Besides, I thought…I thought you and I were scheduled for supper?"

"Indeed, we are. I just wanted to be sure you remembered," said Ada, with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Of course, I did," Hecate sniffed, mildly offended Ada could think she'd have forgotten something like that. She treasured their suppers at this time of year as they were often leisurely affairs that lasted long into the evening. It was so peaceful with the absence of the girls. Hecate found it refreshing to spend such precious time with Ada.

Ada, naturally, had only been teasing. It was so easy to tease Hecate, she couldn't resist just a little bit. Her warm smile softened Hecate slightly.

"Safe flying, Hecate," Ada wished her.

Hecate inclined her head, a half smile pulling at her lips. "Until this evening, Headmistress."

* * *

Ada had been right, it was a pleasant afternoon for flying. Blackmire Grove was technically on school grounds, though off limits for students and protected by a host of charms to prevent the unsuspecting from stumbling across it. Hecate soared atop her broomstick, just above the tree line, searching for the telltale wedged gap in the trees that indicated the entrance. Spotting it, she looked around and seeing no one she descended carefully into the dense wood.

A canopy of leafy boughs blocked all but a very few stray rays of sunlight, leaving the forest floor decidedly dark. The air was thick; a heady mix of earth and pine. Hecate shivered slightly as her boots touched the ground. She held a strange, deep love for this place. She flicked a twinge of magic towards the concealment spell that surrounded the groove, and a great silvery curtain materialized in front of her. It parted, opening a partition in the barrier that allowed Hecate to step inside.

If the forest had been quiet before, inside the barrier was almost complete silence. All around her sprouted a variety of plants, some bright and flowering, others plain and unassuming. Hecate knew them all, having tended to them here for years by now. The grove was almost a perfect circle. In this particular part of the wood there was a great deal of magic concentrated in the earth and it spawned growth and pecularities that might not have occurred otherwise.

Setting her broom aside, Hecate went to work. Since she was here she might as well harvest a few things she'd need for next term in addition the _firtrius gormorui_ she'd come for. She bent and began her inspection if a nearby bush of common gerryweed when something unexpected in her peripheral vision caught her eye. A strange haze across the circle that didn't belong. Frowning, Hecate stood and walked towards the oddity.

There was something there, she was sure of it, but it was being concealed by magical means. Hecate felt her confusion give way to a flood of irritation. There should be no magic here that she herself had not performed. She reached out with a strand of her power, probing. Definitely a concealment spell at work, but not a conventional one. The haze thickened as if threatened by Hecate's glare.

Angry now, Hecate cast a powerful disillusion spell and the haze dissolved revealing a large thrashing vine, that stretched a good several feet taller than Hecate herself. Hecate froze, thoroughly startled. She stared at the queer plant, wracking her brain for whatever it could possibly be. It had a great many tendrils which were swinging about in a mad cap fashion and making an excessive amount of noise as they smacked the ground, clearly unhappy at having been disturbed. As one vine whipped dangerously near her face, Hecate noticed it was covered in sharp dark red thorns and her eyes widened in horror. _Pravum diabolusfolius._ Or in colloquial terms: Devil's Demon.

Devil's Demon was a notoriously rare and powerful plant. But most importantly for Hecate in that moment, it was extraordinarily dangerous. She stumbled backwards, tripping over a root that she could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago and she tumbled to the ground. Her mind spun as she scrambled away on all fours. Only a sorceress of the highest order would have use for such a plant and only one of immense power would have been able to bring it here and conceal it so. _Who could have possibly-_

Her train of thought was cut off by another root erupting out of the earth to her left and wrapping itself around her wrist.

"No!" Hecate cried, twisting away desperately. She needed to get out of there, immediately, but the grip of the root was too strong and it dragged her several feet forward with a sharp tug. Panicking, she raised her free hand and shot what could only be described as a ball of white hot fire at the base of the plant, hoping it would be enough to make it release her.

This would turn out to be a mistake.

A dreadful rumbling sounded and the vine that twisted around her wrist jerked, launching Hecate forward into the air and flinging her across the clearing. She landed hard on her front, the breath swept from her lungs. As soon as she recovered a transference spell was at her fingertips, but before she could cast it one of the flailing vines hit her square in the stomach, it's thorns ripping through her dress and belt as if they were made of paper. Hecate's heart plummeted as she felt several thorns break off and embed themselves in her flesh. The thorns of the Devil's Demon were profoundly toxic to a witch's gift, eroding her powers entirely within a matter of hours if left unattended. She felt a painfully sharp tingling in her abdomen that could only be the beginning of the deadly plant reacting to her magic.

Her broom was a mere ten paces away and Hecate flicked her fingers to transfer herself to it. She disappeared as expected, but reappeared a moment later in exactly the same spot. The raw power emanating from the plant, exacerbated by the power of the earth on which it grew had resulted a dense magical field that prevented transference. Time for a Plan B. Hecate racked her brains for every piece of information she'd ever read about _Pravum diabolusfolius._ It was useful in potent necromancy spells... highly toxic…. grew only in dark places. In cold weather, it would bury its tendrils underground to preserve heat. It needed heat! That was it. Hecate balled up her fists, preparing to launch a freezing spell that might just be powerful enough to allow her to slip away.

Muttering incantations under her breath, Hecate gathered up every ounce of strength she possessed before releasing it in a burst of frothing magic that turned the entire grove to ice in an instant. Everything around her was covered in frosty white shards and she wasted no time snatching up her now-frozen broom and tearing away into the woods at full speed.

After she made it several hundred steps from the grove she stopped and collapsed again a nearby tree, panting with the effort. Her dress was torn and blood seeped from the wounds on her chest and stomach. Weakly she pressed a hand to her breast and muttered a basic healing charm, trying to stem the flow of blood. It did little and Hecate felt faint. Already her magic was weakening. She had to get to help. She had to get back to Ada.

She vanished the frost from her broomstick and on shaking legs, she mounted it and tapped it once. She shot up, faster than anticipated and in seconds she was above the trees. To the south stood Cackles Academy, from here only a spec in the distance. Turning west she could see the sun dipping lower on the horizon, reminding her that she had maybe an hour or two of daylight left at the most. She urged the broom onwards, fighting an intense wave of nausea that threaten to overwhelm her. The broom flew true for a moment before jerking beneath her, sending her clutching the handle desperately with both hands. She couldn't keep her balance and another jerk almost sent her right off her broomstick. Hecate gritted her teeth. Come on, Hecate, focus. You can do this. If she could just get to the Castle then Ada would be there. Ada would know how to help her, surely.

The broom twitched again before plummeting into a dive that Hecate frantically tried to pull out of. Her flying made Mildred Hubble look like a profession broomstick aerialist today. She managed to avoid crashing completely into a towering oak tree, but she whipped through several of its branches as she went by. She brought the broom to a dead stop to assess her injuries. Her left cheek had been grazed by a branch, but the scratch was merely superficial. Her shoulder had also taken a decent wallop, but it too wasn't serious. Resolved, Hecate urged the broomstick forward, only for it to roll one hundred and eighty degrees and she found herself upside-down and clinging for dear life.

She was going to break her neck at this rate. She managed to hang on, and was immensely relieved when she spotted a clearing almost directly beneath her. Slowly, _slowly mind,_ she brought the broom down until her tip toes could reach the ground. Hecate looked to the sky in despair. It was a short twenty-minute flight to the castle, but on foot it would be over an hour uphill and that was when she was in perfect health. But there was nothing for it, so steeling herself, Hecate flung her useless broom to the side and marched shakily off into the underbrush in the direction of Cackles.

* * *

Ada was fretting.

She'd dozed off at her desk, in front of stack of particularly tedious paperwork regarding the renewal of their insurance policies for the next school year. The ministry became more of a bureaucratic headache every year, she was sure of it. When she awoke, she was surprised at how late in the afternoon it was. She'd missed taking her afternoon tea and it was so close to supper she'd ruin it if she ate anything.

Speaking of supper…

Hecate should have been back by now, surely. Ada absentmindedly cast a locator spell and was surprised when it did nothing. Perhaps Hecate was still out. The spell wouldn't have penetrated the castle's walls, particularly not with all of the protection spells so freshly reinforced and if Hecate was still in the woods it wouldn't have picked up her. Ada would have to go outside the gates for that. Which as the hour wore on and it became close to six o'clock she was increasingly tempted to do just that.

She decided she would look from observatory tower first, to see if Hecate was on her way back. Transferring herself to save her the journey up all of those stairs, Ada stood at the top of the highest stone turret and scanned the horizon. She tapped her glasses thrice, enhancing the distance she could see, but there was no sign of her deputy head. Very odd. Very odd and very unsettling in Ada's opinion. Hecate was never late.

 _Perhaps she's gotten absorbed in something or another,_ Ada thought, trying to convince herself. _You know how excited she's been about her latest project._ And that was true enough, but not so much that she thought it would warrant Hecate abandoning her for the evening. That was most out of character.

As the clock struck six, Ada made up her mind. She transferred back to her office, stopping just long enough to grab her travelling clock in case of rain, and then onward to the front gate.

* * *

_I must get to Ada. Ada will…Ada will help._

Hecate felt as if her body was becoming weaker with every step. She willed herself to return to her mantra, an image of Ada Cackle swimming in her minds eyes, propelling her forward. How she wanted to stop, to rest, even to collapse into a pile of dust to be scattered by the four winds. But she couldn't, wouldn't do any of that. She had to get back. She had to get to Ada.

Wheezing and gasping, Hecate stumbled on.

* * *

This time, Ada's locator spell worked more or less as she expected. Hecate wasn't far, some five hundred meters into the woods but something about her was odd. It as if the signal Ada was getting was full of static, something akin to a poorly tuned radio. Unsure of the precise location she ought to transfer to, she instead reached out will her gift, materializing Hecate to be right in front of her.

Hecate doubled over, the force of the unexpected transference spell bringing her almost to her knees. "Ada," she said weakly, lifting her head. "Thank Goodness."

 _"Hecate!"_ Ada gasped, shocked by the sight in front of her. "Hecate, what's happened to you?!"

"I was…I…"

Ada was beside her in an instant, her hands on the poor woman's shoulders and her eyes full of concern. Ada scanned Hecate's face, taking in her cut cheek, her split lip, and her shallow breathing.

"…in the-" Hecate managed to choke out, before her body gave in and she fainted dead away.


	2. Know My Care

Ada caught Hecate before she could hit the ground. Ungracefully, Ada would have admitted, but between a combination of magic and her own body no more harm was going to come to her Deputy Head. Without so much as a second thought Ada whisked them both smack dab in the middle of her bed. She'd wanted a soft landing and this did the trick nicely.

When they rematerialized Hecate was still very much unconscious, slumped over Ada's shoulder and with some difficulty Ada managed to ease her onto her back. She tucked a pillow under the younger women's head, noting for the first time how unkempt Hecate's hair had become. When she'd left that afternoon it had been schooled into its usual sleek tight top knot, but now it was half falling out, tangled with a smattering of twigs and leaves caught between the strands.

Hecate moaned as Ada shifted her.

"Hecate," Ada demanded, putting a hand gently on Hecate's arm. "Hecate, you must wake up. You must tell me what's happened."

Hecate's eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were unsettlingly wide and the fixed Ada with a look she'd never seen before. Never in their twenty years of teaching together had Ada seen Hecate so scared.

"It was Devils Demon," Hecate managed at last. "In the grove, it…it…" she looked down at her torn dress in dismay as she trailed off.

"What?!" Ada exclaimed. "But how? You've never grown that. I would have known!"

Hecate closed her eyes, her face twisting into look of agony. "I didn't…but someone has."

Somebody Ada was going to personally murder if the look on her face was anything to go by. She looked down at Hecate's chest, her stomach, noting the gashes had ripped right through the fabric. Her stomach turned as she recalled how aggressive Devils Demon could become when provoked. She, herself, had never even seen the plant in real life, only read about them in books. They were required for the kinds of dark magic a witch like her would never dream of associating with, not even out of academic interest.

Ada wrung her hands. "What must I do?"

"I…I don't know." Hecate confessed, her voice cracking. "Help me, Ada, _please."_

Hecate's cry was like a needle to the heart to Ada. What to do, what to _do?_ This was like nothing like anything she'd ever seen before. This was beyond her healing magic, that was clear. It would have been beyond the school Matron too, if she'd been there. It was possibly beyond anyone but the most skilled healers for all she knew. It was that thought that gave Ada an idea.

"Don't worry, Hecate," she soothed. Her voice was steadier now that she had a plan. "I'll mirror Barty, he'll send someone from Bristley. We'll get you some help."

Hecate only nodded dully. The strain on her body was starting to leave her feeling numb and detached from herself as bit by bit her power ebbed away. She wondered, oddly, if she would cease to exist at all without her magic.

Ada sprang to her feet to put her plan into action. Bartholomew Batsbane was a very old friend of Ada's and also the administrator at the best magical hospital in the land: Bristley. _The only magical hospital in the land,_ Ada used to tease him, but he was indeed a brilliant healer. And, very importantly, Ada had a direct line to his personal study.

 _Please pick up, for the love of all things sacred, Barty please pick up,_ thought Ada as the she stood before the mirror hung on the wall. Her prayers were answered, as the image of a cheerful grey-bearded wizard appeared in the glass.

"Well me-" Barty's smile disappeared immediately when he saw Ada's face. "Ada, what it is?" he asked, all pleasantries forgone for the time being. "What's happened?"

"There's been some kind of accident," Ada explained hurriedly. "Hecate has been exposed to Devils Demon. Barty, you must send someone to help."

"Right away," he agreed, tapping out a message as he spoke. "But Ada, that wrecked stuff works quickly. How long has it been?"

"I…I don't know."

"One thorn or more?"

"More," she replied, panicking slightly now. "Barty, what do I do?"

Barty grimaced. "You'll have to try and remove them. Immediately. Take a deep breath, I'll walk you through it."

Ada nodded, and pulled the mirror off the wall so that she could prop it up on the nightstand beside her bed. It wasn't the best angle, but it would allow him to see somewhat. It would have to do.

"Hecate," said Ada, gingerly. "Hecate, please wake up."

Hecate made a soft whining sound, but didn't open her eyes.

"There's no way for me to transfer the thorns out?" Ada asked, inspecting the wounds carefully. It was difficult to tell with the fabric in the way, but there looked to be three of them.

"I'm afraid not," came Bartholomew's voice. "The difficulty with a Devils Demon thorn is that it's feeding on her magic and the more powerful she is the more strength it will have to fight you-"

 _Fantastic_ , thought Ada.

"-You're going to have to get a bit of room to work, this is going to be hands-on and a bit…messy I'm afraid."

Anything for Hecate. Anything in the world. With a flick of her wrist Ada replaced Hecate's torn dress with one of her own long pink housecoats. She was prone to wearing them over her pajamas before bed, but it would do now. She parted the fabric at the front to get a better look at the wounds in question. There were indeed three - one low in Hecate's abdomen almost to her hip, one that was lodged in her ribcage, and the last one that was in her sternum, almost exactly between her breasts. Ada tried (and failed) not to blush at the last one. This was no time for the thoughts she occasionally indulged herself in about what it might be like to know Hecate in a more…intimate fashion.

"What now," she asked, steeling herself.

"Have you got a Renard-Motts serum?" He asked her.

"What? Why?" Renard-Motts was for insulating one's self from another's magic, it didn't seem like it was to be of any use here.

"It's for you, Ada," Barty explained, patiently. "If you go in there and pull at those thorns without some kind of defense, they'll simply embed themselves in you and then you'll be of no help to her at all."

"Right, said Ada. "Of course. I think there's some in the infirmary…" she quirked her lips, summoning the bottle silently. An amber vial, half full of a swirling pale liquid appeared in hand.

"I'd cover your hands in that first," said Barty. Ada complied, though her hands trembled something awful. As she rubbed it in, she watched as Hecate's back arched right off the bed in a fit of discomfort and Ada bit her lip.

"What now?"

"Give it a moment to take effect," Barty cautioned. Ada made a frustrated sound low in her throat. She wanted to do something now.

"Ada, this is not without risk," Barty added.

"I know that," Ada snapped, perhaps to sharply. She winced at her tone. Taking a deep shuttering breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away tears.

"Just…please Barty," Ada whispered, her voice softer. "I can't lose her."

Ada opened her eyes to find Barty regarding her closely, a kind look in his bright blue eyes. He nodded to her. "Then use that, Ada Cackle. Because she needs you."

Ada looked down at Hecate, alarmed to see spidery purple lines beginning to emanate from the three wounds and thread themselves across Hecate's skin.

"Barty!" Ada hissed.

He saw it too. "It's time," he told her. "Place your hands over one of the incisions, laced fingers."

Ada complied, her right hand over her left, her fingers interlocked over the thorn near Hecate's hip.

"Probe for the exact location of the thorn. And pray it's still in one piece," Barty continued.

Easy enough. Ada reached out with her power, searching…further…

"OH!" she cried, recoiling involuntarily. Her fingers, wrists, all the way up her forearm was consumed by a painful bolt of something dark and angry. The lines on Hecate's abdomen deepened in colour.

"That would be it," said Barty, wincing in sympathy. "Are you alright?"

Ada nodded, composing herself. She hadn't expected something so pernicious, so aggressive. She shuttered even as the bolt of darkness dissipated, sweeping over her chest before disappearing.

"The next time you feel it, try to remain still. Your job is to force it to you and away from her. Push through the darkness it creates until you can reach the center and then pull."

"How will I know when I've reached the center?" Ada asked.

"I…you'll know," Barty promised her. "And when you find it I might not be able to help you, Ada, _please_ be careful."

Ada's eyes flitted up to Hecate's face. Her eyes had opened again, but they were glassy and unfocused. Somehow this was more upsetting than them simply being closed. The life in them was waning. Ada's worst nightmare was quickly becoming reality.

"I'll be careful," she promised, lacing her hands together again.

This time when she reached out the bolt was expected, and she held fast. She summoned an image of Hecate sitting on the other side of her desk, smirking the way she did when she was particularly pleased. Ada focused on that image of her deputy head with singular intensity. On the way Hecate's eyes shined, on the pretty way she blushed when caught out. On her passion for education, for magic, for her charges. On her vitality itself.

The words were ancient and the flowed from Ada's lips in a calm and even fashion.

"By all that's good and all we share,

Feel my strength and know my care,

By all that's good, and all that's right,

Pierce this darkness, feel my light."

She felt, rather than saw, the bright arc that shot through to the very center of a black mass. The room around her dimmed as she focused. Having broken open a channel, she started pulling with all of her strength. She could feel it shift for a moment before it became stuck, resisting her efforts. The pain in her hands twisted, needling her, causing her whole body to shake with the effort of keeping them pressed into Hecate's skin. Hecate's skin. Hecate who needed her. Ada pulled harder.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the dark mass moved towards her. The moment it sprang from Hecate's flesh it vaporized in a flash as Ada's magic engulfed and demolished it. The room reappeared before Ada, who stumbled backwards into a chair, exhausted.

"Well done, Ada," came Barty's voice from the mirror. "Ada?"

"I'm alright," Ada managed, straightening up. "Just…a little breathless. Barty, that thing…it's…wicked."

"I know," said Barty sympathetically. "Give yourself a minute."

Ada couldn't. Not when she knew the depth of the evil just a single thorn was capable of producing. "No," she said firmly, standing again and placing her hands on Hecate's ribs.

"Ada-"

But Ada was gone already, absorbed completely in her spell.

"By all that's good and all we share…"

It was quicker this time, perhaps it wasn't as deep or as potent Ada would reflect later, but the truth was Ada was even more desperate now. Heightened by her emotions her magic was a force that verged on the edge of her control. Again, the thorn was annihilated the moment it was drawn from Hecate's body.

Ada's legs almost gave way and she clutched the edge of the bed with both hands to support herself. With great difficulty, she took several shaking steps around to the other side of the bed and crawled up beside Hecate. She shuffled awkwardly into a sitting position and took a deep breath.

"Ada!" Barty admonished from his spot on the dresser. "You'll kill yourself at this rate. Please. The healer I sent should be arriving soon, just rest."

Ada looked at Hecate. The younger witch's face was a ghastly white. When Ada pressed a hand to Hecate's cheek it was cool and smooth, like marble beneath her fingers.

She looked like death.

"Barty…she's dying." It wasn't a question exactly.

"Yes," said Barty gently. "But Ada-"

"She can't die," said Ada quietly, more to herself than to him. "She can't."

"Ada. The risk is too great. It's been abusing Hecate's magic for too long. It could destroy you."

Ada turned to him, her mouth pressed into thin line and her eyes burning with determination. "She'd do it for me, Barty."

Barty sighed. There was no talking her out of this. After seeing how she'd dealt with the first two he didn't know why he'd even tried. "Very well, I can see there is nothing I can say."

"No," said Ada, "there isn't."

She pressed her hands to Hecate's chest, felt the burning of the wicked magic seep into her bones once more.

 _Just a little longer, Hecate,_ she thought. I'm right here.

"By all that's good and all we share,

Feel my strength and know my care,

By all that's good, and all that's right,

Pierce this darkness, feel my light!"

By the last syllable Ada's vision blurred and when she blinked in an attempt to clear it she opened her eyes to darkness. She found herself kneeling in a dark void of nothingness. For a moment, everything was perfectly still. As Ada stared, wide-eyed into the void, the void seemed to stare back at her.

Then everything happened at once. The darkness swirled, engulfing her. It thundered in her ears and hammered at her skin. She felt as if the darkness were trying to tear her to an infinite number pieces.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing could be heard over the din of the magic, bent upon her destruction.

She couldn't let it. She couldn't leave Hecate to fight this wickedness on her own. Hecate. Hecate, Hecate, Hecate. Her face appeared in front of Ada, but she wasn't smiling this time. She looked sad, eyes cast down, shaking her head at Ada.

"Why would you do this, Ada?" Hecate's echoed as if coming across a great chasm.

"I…I had to," Ada replied. "For you."

"You shouldn't have," said Hecate, her face swimming in Ada's field of vision. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I love you," said Ada. The words tumbled from her mouth without so much as a second thought. Something strange flickered across Hecate's face.

"I love you," repeated Ada. "I couldn't let you die."

The image of Hecate faded, and Ada stumbled forward in the darkness. "Hecate!" she cried, as the witch disappeared. "HECATE!"

But she was gone.

Ada clasped her hands together, magic pouring from her like a fountain.

"By all that's good and all we share,

Feel my strength and know my care,"

A spark burned in Ada's chest, ballooning with every word.

"By all that's good, and all that's right,"

Her chest was full to bursting, she could feel her power pressing at every fiber of her being.

"Pierce this darkness, feel my light!"

With that, she released the light into the void. Ada's vision had gone white, blinding her, but she felt the darkness burning away until there was nothing left.

Ada opened her eyes to find herself kneeling on her bed, her hands still clasped together. She looked wildly around to see Barty in the mirror staring at her, his mouth gaping open.

"Is it gone?" she cried. "Did I…is it?"

"It's gone," confirmed Barty. "Ada, that…I've never seen anything like that in my entire life."

"It's gone," Ada repeated. That was really the only part of the sentence that had registered.

"Yes," said Barty soothingly. "Look."

Ada turned to Hecate, amazed to see the younger witch's cheeks flush with colour, her chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breathing. Relief and exhaustion swept over Ada.

"Thank Goodness," Ada breathed. Unable to keep herself sitting up, she curled up next to Hecate, pressing her forehead into the younger witch's shoulder.

"Rest, Ada," came Barty's voice from the mirror behind her. "She's going to be alright now."

Ada managed only the slightest of nods, and then her eyes crashed shut.


	3. Baby Magic

When Ada opened her eyes, she found herself in her own bed, dressed in her own pajamas with a pink and white quilt pulled up to her chin. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before a loud popping noise distracted her.

Barty Batsbane had materialized by the foot of her bed and Ada remembered. But Barty hadn't been there, he must have come while she was asleep.

"Ada, it's good to see you," greeted Barty. "I see you're awake."

"Yes," said Ada, sitting up and summoning her glasses from where someone had neatly tucked them away on her nightstand. "How long have I been asleep?"

With her glasses on she could see Barty properly. He was smiling at her as he pulled a chair towards the bed and plunked himself down in it. "Better part of a day," he told her.

A day! It felt like it couldn't have been more than an hour.

"And Hecate? Where is she?" Ada was already making to get up, but as she sat up the room spun and she felt exceedingly light headed.

Barty proper a pillow up behind Ada's back and with a hand on her shoulder encouraged her to lie back down. "She's in her room, resting. One of my best healers is with her, not to worry."

Ada swallowed hard. "Is she's alright?"

"She's alive," Barty remarked. "Thanks to you."

"May I see her?" No matter Barty's calm demeanour, Ada couldn't quite relax until she'd seen Hecate with her own eyes. The memory of her cold and still haunted her. 

"You may, in a moment," said Barty. "Here, drink this." With a flick of his wrist he summoned a glass of pale green liquid. "It will help."

Ada drank deeply. The dizziness subsided almost immediately. "Now," she said firmly, sweeping the quilt off herself in on fluid motion. It was not a question, it was a demand. This was her school after all.

Barty chuckled. "Indeed," he agreed, standing. "But Ada, when you're finished we need to have a talk."

"Very well," agreed Ada, standing. She felt quite well now. Exceptionally well, actually. Her magic tingled, warm and present beneath her finger tips. With a flash she switched her pajamas for her favourite magenta sweater and a long skirt. "I'll meet you in my office when I'm finished," she promised Barty. He hadn't told her why he'd come personally, but she suspected that was why he wished to talk.

Barty nodded, and disappeared with a loud crack. Wizards always made far too much noise when transferring, and Ada thought of how Hecate would have rolled her eyes at the sound. So gratuitous. Honestly.

Silently, Ada transferred herself to Hecate's door. She could have gone right in if she'd wanted to - being headmistress had some advantages after all - but she never did. Hecate Hardbroom was an extraordinarily private person and Ada had built their close relationship on the understanding of that. She knocked.

"Come in," came an unfamiliar voice, and the door creaked open of its own accord.

Ada hadn't had cause to enter Hecate's quarters in a great many years and she'd almost forgotten what it looked like. It was cozier than one might have expected, though it distinctly lacked the trinkets and tidbits that filled Ada's rooms. The only thing Hecate kept in excess was books. They were neatly lined up on a tall parade of book cases that lined an entire wall. The rest of the room was decorated rather minimally, with a few pieces of practical furniture careful arranged; a coffee table, a writing desk, two wingback chairs beside the fireplace. Beyond a narrow doorway on the far wall would be the bedroom. It was out of this door that a round red-haired witch came, dressed in a checkered blue apron.

"Miss Cackle, Minerva Gansy. Well met."

Ada brought her hand automatically to her forehead. "Well met." She peered to look around the woman and into Hecate's bedchamber.

"Not too long now," advised the healer. "I'll give you two a moment."

"Thank you, Minerva."

Ada inhaled sharply when she saw her. The Hecate Hardbroom who walked the Cackles corridors in term time was an imposing and intimidating figure, who towered over the girls and who seems almost larger than life, but here asleep in her bed she seemed like the smallest creature Ada had ever seen. Inky purple lines that twisted like spider's webs were still visible at her neck. Someone, Minerva presumably, had washed Hecate's hair and plaited it in single low braid. At the sound of Ada's approach her eyes fluttered open.

"Ada," Hecate said hoarsely, and the furrow in her brow seems to relax a little bit.

Ada took the empty chair beside the bed. "How are you, my dear?"

Hecate thought for a moment. "Weary," she said at last.

"I'm sure," Ada smiled. How very understated. A thousand questions churned in Ada's mind, each seeming more urgent than the last. She ignored them all.

"You gave me quite the fright, Hecate," she said, unable to keep all the emotion entirely from her face. "I'll not deny it."

Hecate looked ashamed, which had not been Ada's intention. "Not that it was your fault," Ada added soothingly. She longed to reach out, stroke Hecate's hair, smooth her brow, do anything to ease her discomfort. But she suspected the wish was mostly selfish and she kept her hands folded primly in her lap.

"It was my fault, in a way," Hecate said after a spell.

"What?"

"I may not have planted the vile thing," Hecate assured her. "But someone was able to breach my protective spells and they brought that monstrosity onto school grounds. That, at least, is my fault."

"Hecate," Ada protested. Hecate had been responsible for all the protective spells on Cackles since the day Ada had become Headmistress. She was far and away the most powerful witch for the job, protection being somewhat of a specialty of hers.

"At least it was me who found it, at least it wasn't one of the girls," Hecate added, closing her eyes in agony at the thought. "I'm sorry, Ada, truly."

"I won't listen to this," said Ada firmly.

Hecate swallowed. "Bartholomew told me what you did for me," she said, not able to meet her Headmistresses eye.

She looked so downcast, it reminded Ada of the way she'd appeared in the void, her face shimmering in front of her before fading away. She wondered if that had been real or the result of an illusion created by the magic. Ada was afraid to ask, but she was desperate to know. "Do you…remember what happened? Once you were back to the castle?"

Flashes of memory appear to Hecate, but all of them felt surreal. She remembered the way the dark magic had burrowed through her, so easily as if all the strength and power she'd cultivated over the decades of her life meant nothing. She remembered the feeling of Ada's fingers pressing into her flesh. She remembered the fear and hatred that had manifested, twisting her gift against Ada.

She remembered Ada screaming and that she was the reason why. The guilt cut Hecate to the core.

"Hecate?"

Hecate didn't hear her. She remembered Ada kneeling, remember the sensation of Ada's magic touching her own in a way she'd never known possible. She remembered the supplications flowing from Ada's lips, remembered the way she'd refused to back down. Hecate remembered Ada's intense goodness and love for her. Love that Hecate couldn't imagine deserving and couldn't possibly accept.

"Hecate." Ada's voice is gentled but pressing.

Hecate felt Ada's fingertips brush her cheek, but still she couldn't bring herself to look.

"Hecate, please, I am sorry."

 _For what,_ Hecate could not dream of why.

"You don't have to tell me about it," Ada continued. "Forget I asked."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Cackle," Hecate said despondently.

'Miss Cackle' again was she? Ada's heart sunk. Hecate had taken to calling her Ada exclusively unless students were present and Ada had accept it as a quiet step forward in their friendship. She debated if it should be addressed – probably not, Hecate seemed awfully fragile at the moment – when she felt her ears pop as if she'd taken a steep dive on her broomstick.

Hecate was frowning. Something odd was happening, the room seemed to darken and it wasn't until Ada looked up she realized what had changed. A small angry thundercloud was brewing near the ceiling. With a flash, followed by a crack of thunder, it opened and began pouring rain down onto the bed.

"Did you cast a weather spell?" asked Ada, scrambling to her feet.

"I certainly did _not,_ " said Hecate, shielding her face with her hands as the water hammered down on them both.

Minerva had popped back into the room at the sound of the commotion. She seemed entirely unperturbed by the unexpected thunderstorm that was drenching her patient. With a wave of her hand the cloud disappeared, leaving a soaking wet Hecate sitting in bed looking for all the world like a drowned kitten.

Ada cast a drying spell on herself, and was surprised to see Hecate didn't move to do the same. The younger witch stayed motionless, staring up at the ceiling in annoyance. Minerva cast the spell for her, effortlessly banishing the offending water.

"What was that?" asked Ada, puzzled.

"Baby magic," Minerva replied, half smiling. "Hers," she added, gesturing to Hecate when Ada still looked confused.

"Baby magic?" Ada exclaimed.

Hecate straightened up as well as she was able and fixed the woman with a domineering sneer. "I have been a fully-grown witch for forty-nine years. I do not have any... _baby magic!"_ she sputtered.

"It's a side effect, I'm afraid," said Minerva pulling a face. "Didn't Mr. Batsbane tell you when he explained?"

"Explained what?" interjected Ada, feeling like she was missing something important.

"That her magic is…" Minerva trailed off. "I mean, it's really not for me to say."

Hecate's face had become its best impression of a stone statue. "He did mention…irregularities," she muttered.

"Hecate?" Ada said, trying to keep her voice calm and even but failing.

"I think I'd rather be alone now, Miss Cackle," Hecate replied, staring down at her hands.

Ada pursed her lips and glanced at Minerva who was grimacing. Hecate had shut down entirely, rolling over to face the opposite wall. When Hecate required space, space was the only thing that would do.

Besides, Barty would be forthcoming with her, even if Hecate wasn't. And he should be waiting in her office by now. Ada stood placed a hand on Hecate's shoulder by means of a goodbye. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll be back if you need me, my dear."

Minerva had made a silent exit and Ada swiftly followed her, leaving Hecate to herself.

* * *

By the time Ada appeared in her office, Barty had made himself comfortable and taken the liberty of summoning up a tea tray. He looked up as she entered, taking in her slow movements, her tired expression.

"Let's have a cup of tea," suggested Barty, refreshing the pot with a wave of his hand. "You look like you could use one."

Ada nodded, but wasn't able to bring herself to speak. She was busy turning over the last hour in her mind. The thunderstorm. The baby magic. The way Hecate had completely shut down on her.

Barty waited patiently, allowing her to process. They'd known each other a tremendously long time – since university actually – and he knew she'd begin when she was good and ready.

Once her tea had gone cold she finally asked him. "Barty, what's wrong with her magic?"

Barty winced. "Ah. That."

"Yes. That," said Ada sternly.

Barty poured himself another cup from the seemingly bottomless pot of tea. "Devil's Demon is a tricky business. It consumes a witch's magic much like termites might burrow through a tree. At each entry point it would have started branching off in various directions. You remember the purple lines?"

Ada nodded, feeling sick.

"That's what those were. A witch's gift grows every year, as you know. Imagine it like layer upon layer of power that form her full potential, like the rings of the tree. The longer the exposure, the more holes formed in the layers, and eventually the whole thing collapses."

"And that's what's happened to her?" asked Ada, eyes wide. "Her powers have…collapsed?"

"Not entirely," Barty reassured her, "But…to a certain degree, yes."

"I see," said Ada, feeling suddenly cold, the hairs on her arms standing on end. "And…what's the prognosis for such a thing."

"Hard to say," said Barty thoughtfully. "Hypothetically, as long as enough of a structure is still there, her remaining magic will repair itself with time. But there aren't a lot of case studies in this area. Most instances of exposure do not have quite such …favorable outcomes."

"She accidentally caused a thunderstorm," said Ada, hoping that was a good omen.

"Did you annoy her?" joked Barty. "Sorry," he added hastily, seeing Ada's unimpressed expression.

"Minerva said it was baby magic." Baby magic, the little bouts of unexpected things around the ages of two or three were hallmarks of most witches' childhoods. For some it was exceedingly minor – knocking something off a desk without touching it or summoning a favourite toy from the hands of another child. For others, it was more…dramatic. Agatha, for example, had set the garden shed on fire during a particularly angry tantrum at age three.

"Sounds like baby magic," agreed Barty. "It's not uncommon after something has damaged a witch's gift. It's a good sign, Ada. It means her gift is still there and that it's trying to assert itself."

"I see," said Ada, mulling this over. Poor Hecate, no wonder she shut down to severely. Hecate's powers, like all witches magic, formed a fundamental part of her being, how very horrid it must feel for them to be compromised.

"This actually brings me to a question I had for you," Barty said, pouring yet another cup for himself.

"Go ahead," said Ada, studying the design on her teacup rather intently.

"That last thorn…" Barty trailed off as if he didn't quite know how to phrase his question. "I would not have been able to remove it; did you know that?"

Ada looked up at him in surprise. "But that doesn't make any sense, you told me how to do it."

"I did," Barty conceded. "But it wasn't whole like the other two. It was shattered into pieces. It should have been too far gone."

Well, that explained why it was so different than the first two, why it consumed Ada so. "But I don't understand," Ada said, sipping her tea. "I did manage it."

"Yes, you did," said Barty, looking at her reverently. "Which tells me two things: You, Ada Cackle, are a very powerful witch."

"We knew that already," remarked Ada lightly.

"And," Barty continued as if he hadn't heard her commentary. "She's your true love. Isn't she?"

Ada choked on her tea. "My…wh…what?!" she sputtered.

"Come now, Ada, this cannot be news to you."

Ada's eyes were streaming with tears as she coughed. "True love," she said wiping her mouth. "Didn't you get enough lectures from Miss Prax in school about the myths and pitfalls of the true love magical paradigm."

"You don't believe it?" he asked.

"The evidence, Barty," Ada drawled. "It's-"

"-inconclusive," Barty finished. "I know the criticisms, Ada, and I respect them. Goodness, I agree with them most of the time. But one cannot ignore evidence when it's right in front of you. What you did required an incredible love."

Ada shook her head slowly in disbelief. "Barty," she said slowly.

"Ada Cackle, you are one of my oldest and dearest friends," he said seriously. "Do not lie to me."

Ada sat quietly for a moment. "I'll not deny I love her, Barty," she admitted, her voice low.

Barty looked at her. "And she doesn't know," he concluded.

Ada looked guilty. "I mean…she _knows._ In a way. Of course, I love them all: the staff, the students, that includes…her."

"So, she doesn't know," said Barty, rolling his eyes.

"Why are we having this conversation, Barty?" Ada asked. It was physically painful to think about, a sharp pain that emanated from her breastbone.

"Because," said Barty kindly. "I hate to see you deny yourself happiness, Ada."

"I manage just fine," Ada insisted.

Barty let the subject drop and they sat in a companionable silence for some time. Eventually Ada's eyes started drooping and Barty insisted she go to bed. The rest of the staff would be returning the morning, and Ada needed her rest.

As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom Ada turned over Barty's theories about her and Hecate in her mind. True loves. That couldn't possibly be true.

Could it?


	4. The Great Wizard

The next morning brought a series of logistical and emotional nightmares for Ada Cackle that left her no time to ruminate on love, True or otherwise. The return of the academy staff should have brought more help, but having to explain to each of them what had transpired over the break was unexpectedly challenging. By the time she was explaining it to Miss Bat (for the third wretched time to boot) she was wishing desperately that she could have just put all of it in a memo.

It didn't help that finding a supply witch for Miss Hardbroom's post this close to term time was proving to be an exercise in futility. Miss Bat could take over as the first-year form mistresses for the time being, and Miss Drill had been informed she was to be relocated to the West Tower to mind the younger girls after hours, but potions mistress was not part of the job that someone could just be shuffled into. Ada spent half the morning in from of the mirror in her office trying to arrange for someone suitable, time she would have rather spent elsewhere.

Still, it was probably for the best that she was so busy. Hecate might benefit from being alone, much as it hurt Ada's heart to think so.

* * *

Alone was something Hecate Hardbroom wished she was. She instead was spending her morning being peppered with questions and tests from both Barty and 'that insufferable nurse' as Hecate had taken to calling her under her breath. They were well meaning, she knew, but being the centre of their attentions made her feel intensely uncomfortable. For the fifth time that day she levitated her water glass up a few inches, at their insistence, feeling little like herself and more like a particularly boring circus attraction.

Her magic was flimsy and unpredictable, two things she abhorred. Performing even the simplest of spells required a level of concentration she normally reserved for instances of extreme peril, and that was if anything happened at all.

"That's better," said Minerva, as the glass came back down with a soft tap instead of the excessive thump it had previously. Hecate rolled her eyes.

"A feat of brilliance," she remarked acidly.

"An improvement," countered Minerva. "But I think that's enough for now. I'm going to see if there's anything in the way of lunch yet."

Hecate didn't acknowledge the sentiment. She couldn't have felt less like eating, but at least she finally had her room to herself again. There was only one person she had any desire to see and that was Ada, who's presence she seemed to crave and dread in equal measure. Part of her couldn't bear the thought of facing her. She knew she'd been short and unfeeling with Ada the day before, but she didn't know how not to be. The other part of her wished she could just bury her head in Ada's soft magenta sweater and cry until the world swallowed her up.

* * *

By mid-afternoon Ada had put out enough administrative fires that she was able to justify a break and a visit to her deputy headmistress. She stopped by the kitchens for a tea tray first. Proper tea was always more satisfying than any that she could conjure, and she thought Hecate might appreciate it.

Minerva answered the door to her knock and ushered Ada in. "Maybe you can get her to eat something," said the healer with an exaggerated sigh. "And is she always so cross?"

"Generally, yes," said Ada, drily. Minerva looked suitably taken aback by the answer, and seeing no need to elaborate Ada pushed past her and into Hecate's bedchamber.

Hecate was out of bed at least, sitting on a chair with a piece of parchment in her lap. Her head snapped up at Ada's appearance and Ada couldn't tell if she was pleased or disappointed to see her.

"Good afternoon, Hecate." Ada was smiling, but it was ever so slightly forced. "I thought, perhaps you might like a cup of tea."

Hecate nodded, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She stood, folded the parchment she held into neat thirds and deposited it on the nightstand.

The tension in the room was awful. Neither witch knew quite what to say. Normally being together was so easy, something they'd mastered after years of working side by side. How had that shattered so quickly? 

It was Hecate who broke the silence first. "I…I haven't even offered you a seat," she mumbled, reverting back to her most formal self. "Here," and she raised a hand automatically to conjure a second chair for Ada before freezing.

Ada's heart tumbled at the sight. "Allow me," she said gently, handing Hecate the tea tray to give her something to do. With a twitch of her fingers she summoned another chair and a low table.

Hecate winced. It shouldn't have been, but somehow this was mortifying. "Bartholomew's told you then?" she said, sinking back into her chair.

"Yes, he did," said Ada gently. She paused, trying to gauge Hecate's mood. Melancholy, was her conclusion. And not without reason.

"Don't look at me like that," pleaded Hecate. "I cannot stand it."

"Like what," asked Ada.

Hecate wrung her hands. "Like…like I'm... pitiful."

Ada exhaled sharply. "Hecate Hardbroom, I do not believe you to be pitiful."

Hecate blinked back tears. "Of course," she said. "I supposed you wouldn't." She felt guilty for even thinking it. Of course Ada would take the most charitable view possible of her. She always had before.

"And what's more," Ada added, scooting her chair forward and taking the younger witches hands in her own. "Nothing could ever be further from the truth."

Hecate nodded, swallowing hard. She willed herself to believe Ada but found it impossibly difficult. Ada reached a hand to cup Hecate's cheek, tipping her face up to meet hers.

"Oh, my dear," Ada murmured. "What must I do to convince you how worthy you are?"

Hecate turned her cheek into Ada's palm for a moment before a great cracking sound startled them both and Hecate leapt out of her chair.

A familiar cracking sound Ada realized with a jolt. _Barty._ She was proven correct when the wizard poked his head through the doorway.

"Ada, we really must speak privately."

"Not now," protested Ada, glaring at him. This was not the moment for interruptions.

"It's urgent," Barty insisted. He fixed her with a look of intensity that made Ada's stomach churn.

"Very well," she snapped, rising to her feet. She looked kindly back at Hecate. "This conversation is not over."

Hecate didn't return her gaze.

* * *

When she and Barty were in the corridor and out of earshot Ada rounded on him in a fit of fury. "What is so urgent?" she demanded.

"The Great Wizard is on his way," hissed Barty. "I thought perhaps you'd like to know."

"What?!"

"I'm sorry, Ada," said Barty, looking perplexed. "I didn't know he'd come himself-"

"But why is he coming at _all?"_ Ada thundered.

Barty raised his hands apologetically. "Devil's Demon is a Schedule 47 controlled substance. Any exposure is a mandatory report under the Code. I'm sorry, Ada, it wasn't personal."

Ada leaned back against the stone wall, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, I'm sure it wasn't," she said resignedly. "The Great Wizard on my doorstep is just the very last thing I need right now."

"I'm sure it's just a formality," Barty tried.

Ada thought of the Grand Wizards disastrous visit last year and of his tense correspondence since Agatha's miserable power grab at the end of last term. Highly unlikely this was a formality as far as she was concerned. Naturally there would be an investigation, but she'd hoped to be the one to conduct it on her own terms.

"When?" she asked, not wanting to argue.

"Within the hour I expect," said Barty. "And while I'd love to stay and help you prepare-"

"-you must be off," Ada finished for him.

"Yesterday, if I'm honest," said Barty. "I've got a ward of people waiting on me."

"Take care, Barty," Ada said, her exasperation with him dissipated. "I do appreciate you, you know… when you're not driving me batty."

Barty leaned in and gave her his customary peck on the cheek. "You'll remember what I said," he intoned, glancing at Hecate's door.

Ada blushed faintly. "Yes. Safe journey, Barty."

"Best of luck, Ada." And with a final cracking sound that echoed along the stone corridor he was gone.

* * *

There was no time to arrange for a greeting ceremony. His Greatness could like it or lump it and Ada couldn't have cared less. The girls arrived tomorrow, the kitchens only had half their food order, Miss Bat had been so perturbed by what had happened to Hecate that she'd refused to come out of her rooms and instead locked herself in her wardrobe…and the list went on. When this was over and Ada had gotten to the bottom of whoever had brought this calamity down upon her deputy head and her school, she thought she just might murder them, Witches Code be damned.

When he arrived some forty minutes later The Great Wizard was every bit as gruff and unimpressed as Ada had feared. Lovely. She'd hoped to speak with him privately before he had a chance to get to speak to any of her staff, especially Hecate, but His Greatness had other ideas. Ada led the way to Hecate's quarters, her step heavy. Just routine questions, he'd promised her, nothing too taxing. But if they were routine why had he come himself and not sent a deputy? Surely there were enough spare inspectors at the ministry and His Greatness had better things to do…

But he wouldn't hear it. As the door to Hecate's room slammed in Ada's face she wondered if she'd ever stop feeling like she was falling.

* * *

She returned to her office and tried to work, truly she did. But the words on the papers swum before her eyes and eventually she vanished them in an angry puff of smoke. His Greatness had been with Hecate for over an hour by now and Ada didn't think she could stand another minute trapped in her office, fretting.

She yawned and stretched, feeling her shoulder pop as she flexed her arms. She needed to move, to do something other than stare uselessly at the disaster that was her desk. At least they had a substitute potions mistress now. Not arriving for a week, but what could a witch do?

Donning a grey cloak and her hat, Ada decided a short flight around the castle grounds before the sun went down would be the best tonic. It would give her a chance to inspect the castle's protective spells before the start of term, something she usually left to Hecate's expertise. The last thing they needed was for something else to go amiss when the girls arrived.

The air was still warm despite the waning afternoon light when she took off. Ada didn't fly often, it had never been a particularly great joy of hers, but she couldn't deny that it was freeing. The wind that caressed her cheek and tousled her hair had a calming effect. Breathing deep, Ada hummed and brought her magic in harmony with that of the castles. It felt every bit like it did when she ran a hand over the stone banister on the stair or pressed her bare feet to the floor of her room.

She could sense Hecate's magic at work in the illusion charm that hid the castle from prying eyes. The sharpness of it shocked her. It was so distinctly Hecate's in essence that for a moment Ada felt overcome with emotion.

She was yanked rudely away from her reverie by a flash of light and she turned, seeking its source. In the distance, she could see a figure on a broomstick hovering just outside the castle walls. Frowning she tapped her glasses to focus in on the individual. Could it be one of the girls arrived too early. A teacher? But when she managed to glimpse a woman's face it wasn't one Ada recognized. Then with a jolt Ada realized the woman was holding a large camera, which emanated another exaggerated magical flash.

_What the devil does she think she is doing?_ Ada set her broom in motion, fixed on confronting the stranger when the woman – a reporter Ada had surmised – caught her eye and in an instant, she vanished.

_That cannot be good,_ thought Ada, letting out a trembling breath. It would take a witch with a highly modified magical camera to get a clear view of Cackles from a broom, but no doubt that's exactly what she'd just witnessed. As she was pondering what to do about it, she was unceremoniously yanked from her reality and transferred with a crash to her office. Blinking she looked up to see The Great Wizard towering her. She bristled at the nerve he had, summoning her in her own school.

"Miss Cackle, I was hoping we might have word," he said, grimly.

"I see that," Ada replied, straightening her clothing. _Egbert Hellibore, you sodding great clot._ She swallowed her annoyance as best she could and rounded her desk to take her usual chair. "Have a seat."

He sat, chest still puffed out ridiculously. Hecate would have had a smart remark about it had she been present to witness it. Thinking of Hecate made Ada purse her lips. "What can I do for you, Your Greatness?"

"Hecate Hardbroom," he said, pulling a stack of paper from his briefcase. "And this business with Cackles being a breeding ground for highly illegal _flora._ "

"I assure you, I will get to the bottom of who is responsible for this," promised Ada.

"Hmm," the Great Wizard frowned. "Miss Cackle, I think you misunderstand me. I have no intention of letting you conduct this investigation. In fact, I've half a mind to cancel this term until I've completed my inquiry."

Ada gaped at him. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he countered. "What do you know of Miss Hardbroom's recent potions research?"

Ada bit back the angry retort that leapt to mind. "Are you saying, Your Greatness," she said, her voice even and frighteningly sweet. "That you believe Miss Hardbroom had something to do with the appearance of the Devil's Demon?"

"That is precisely what I am saying," said The Great Wizard.

"She couldn't possibly," said Ada. "I'm sure of it. Hecate would never have use for such a wicked thing and what's more she'd never let anything of that nature within a hundred miles of this school."

The Great Wizard sighed. "Miss Cackle, then you do not know she once had a permit for it?"

"What?"

"In 1976. It's on record," he replied, pulling out a sheet of paper from the stack and handing it to her. Ada's eyes skipped disbelievingly over the form. Down at the bottom of page shimmered Hecate's familiar slanting signature.

"This doesn't say what the plant was for," Ada remarked, scanning the page again.

"Precisely," said the Great Wizard.

"Well, that could have been anything!" Ada exclaimed, her mind spinning. "Wasn't she at university then? Besides, this is only valid for eighteen months."

"Did you know she applied for another one just last year?" He passed another ministry form to her and Ada took it with trembling hands. It had to be a mistake. It just had to be. But there was "APPLICATION FOR THE PROCURMENT OF PRAVUM DIABOLUSFOLIUS, SCHDULE 47A" along with her Deputy's signature again at the bottom of the page.

"It was denied," he continued. "Insufficient demonstration of academic necessity. It seems she took matters into her own hands."

Ada shook her head. Hecate wouldn't have. She wouldn't believe it. The wizard fixed her with a grave stare.

"As of this moment, Miss Cackle," he declared. "Hecate Hardbroom is our best and _only_ suspect."


	5. The Daily Spell

The first morning of the new term was shrouded in a pouring rain, which Ada thought was rather fitting given the dismal state of affairs. She had to dig deep for some semblance of optimism, and was finding it very difficult indeed.

Oh well, the girls hadn't arrived yet. She could be cheerful after a cup of tea. Or three. Maybe spiked with cheeriness potion if it came down to it. The staff room seemed oddly empty without Hecate and Ada dreaded the thought of giving her opening remarks to the girls without her Deputy by her side. This would be the first time she wouldn't be absent. It made Ada feel oddly hollow.

Three lumps of sugar this morning, instead of the usual two. It was almost time to for the girls to arrive and Ada tried once again to find some scrap of positivity. _She didn't do it,_ was all she could think of, over the over and over. _Hecate would never._ But how to convince the Great Wizard of that?

"Miss Cackle!" Miss Bat's voice could be heard screeching from the corridor. Hurried footsteps followed and the staff room door soon swung open with a shattering crash. "Miss Cackle! You've all got to see this!"

Ada took a fortifying swig of milky sweet tea as Miss Drill and Mr Rowan-Webb stared at Miss Bat.

Miss Bat, evidently, had gone for the post and she burst through the doorway brandishing a newspaper. The Daily Spell was the only paper anyone read with regularity, well save Hecate and her loyalty to Potions Monthly.

"What is it?" asked Miss Drill, rocketing up out of her seat. She crowded around Miss Bat, who was panting with the effort. Apparently, she'd run all the way from the front gate.

Ada crossed the room in short, tense strides. Miss Bat thrust the paper under her nose, trembling. The front page was splashed with a giant photograph of Cackles Academy, underneath which the headline screamed "CACKLES POTIONS TEACHER SUSPECTED OF DARK MAGIC!" along with a smaller photo of Hecate sneering.

"What in tarnation?" Ada hissed, snatching up the paper. _Miss Hecate Hardbroom, Cackle Academy's Potions teacher and Deputy Headmistresses has been accused by unnamed sources of growing dangerous and pernicious plants on school grounds. Reports of Devil's Demon found on the property collaborate the-_

Ada stopped short, turning to the others who stood with wide eyes and open mouths. "Did any of you speak to anyone about this?" she demanded.

"No, Miss Cackle," came the unanimous reply.

Ada pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "The parents…" she murmured.

"They'll all have seen it by now," supplied Miss Drill, rather unnecessarily.

"Utterly irresponsible journalism," added Mr Rowan-Webb.

"Miss Cackle?" came Miss Bat fearfully. "What do we do?"

Ada took a deep breath. "We keep calm," she said, though her hands shook with unspoken rage. "The girls will be here within the hour and they must see that all is as usual. It is our job to project an atmosphere of calm and confidence in light of these horrendous allegations. Which are most certainly hurtful and untrue."

This was the Ada Cackle her staff had grown accustomed too. Level headed and firm in the face of yet another catastrophe.

"And Miss Hardbroom is not to see this!" Ada added, smacking the paper with the back of her hand to punctuate her point. There were furious nods of agreement all around.

"What shall we tell the girls of Miss Hardbroom?" asked Miss Drill. "They're sure to ask."

"I've given that some thought," said Ada. Hecate was all she'd been able to think of. "I think it's best to be honest but discreet. Miss Hardbroom will be taking the term off in the interest of her health. There is no need to elaborate further. Rumours are to be quashed on sight, understood?"

There was another round of nods. Ada tucked the newspaper into a hidden pocket of her skirt. In the distance, a clock chimed nine o'clock.

"Right," said Ada, glancing around at her staff one last time. "Time to go. We'll all convene in the Great Hall, given the rainy weather. Let's get to it. Keep calm and witch on!"

The Cackles Academy staff exchanged grim looks with each other as Ada led the way out the door.

* * *

"I heard the Great Wizard threatened to lock her in the dungeon."

"I heard she was planning on poisoning the Queen of England!"

"I heard she went blind and lost her all of her magic!"

"Girls. Girls!" Miss Bat fell woefully short of Miss Hardbroom when it came to commanding order. Quash rumours on sight indeed, it was all any of the students were talking about! "That's enough. Don't believe everything you hear," Miss Bat chastised a group of third years whose theories echoed down the corridor, each more outlandish than the last.

In the Great Hall, Miss Drill was casting drying spell after drying spell on beleaguered students, most of whom had been soaked by the rain during their journey. Around her chaos reigned as the girls gleefully greeted their friends and shared in the gossip.

"Mildred Hubble, on time this year I see," called Miss Drill.

Mildred grinned at her. "My flying is loads better!" she exclaimed before suddenly looking wary. "Not to jinx it or anything."

Miss Drill laughed and shook her head. "It will take more than that for a proper jinx," she said, casting a drying spell over the girl.

"MILLIE!" Enid and Maud had caught sight of her and both launched themselves at Mildred, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"How was your break?!" exclaimed Maud.

"And did you hear about HB?" added Enid.

"What about HB?" asked Mildred looking perplexed.

Maud tapped Enid on the shoulder. "She doesn't get the paper, silly!" she reminded her. Maud's eyes were as big as saucers and Mildred looked properly alarmed. Maud clapped Mildred's shoulder. "HB. It's a _total_ disaster. Apparently, she grew this really evil plant and it attacked her!"

Mildred frowned. "Miss Hardbroom grew an illegal plant? Miss Hardbroom who never bends on any rule ever?"

"It's true!" said Enid. "It was all over the papers. Dad almost didn't want me to come! But I told him not in a million years."

Mildred blinked and looked around the hall properly for the first time. All around them everyone was chattering away and from the smattering of conversations she could hear all of them seemed to be about HB. She felt like the odd one out again, as everyone seemed to have known except for her.

"I forgot to tell you the best bit of my break," Enid was saying, though Mildred was only half listening. "Look!"

"Woah, a video camera?" Maud was mesmerized by the gadget in Enid's hands.

"You know it," Enid grinned, trying to get Mildred's attention.

"Better not let Miss Cackle catch you with it," warned Maud. "It's not allowed."

Enid looked furtively around, winked, and tucked the device into her bag. "What the teachers don't know won't hurt them."

"Well, I learned a new spell over break," said Maud proudly, producing a perfectly formed rose from her suitcase. "Millie, do you want to see?"

Mildred forced herself to focus on her friend, though her mind was still half thinking of what it would take for Miss Hardbroom to break the Witches Code.

"So, it's a flower?" said Mildred, looking unimpressed. Maud grinned.

"It only _looks_ like a flower," she said triumphantly. "It's a special kind of glamour that you can place on objects. See?" Maud waved her hand slowly over the top of the plant and it shimmered, revealing itself to be a cactus.

Enid gasped approvingly. Mildred still didn't really see the appeal.

"A glamour is a lot harder than a simple transformation," Maud explained. "It's my first proper illusion."

"Uhh, good for you, Maud!" said Mildred, summoning up some enthusiasm for her friend's accomplishment. "You'll have to teach me sometime." This pleased Maud and she grinned happily before tucking the plant away.

"Girls," came Miss Cackle's voice from the front of the room, magically magnified to fill the space. A hush fell over the group as they shuffled into the orderly lines they were expected to form.

Ada surveyed the rows of students and they gazed back at her expectantly. Her stomach felt tight, twisting with unease and her hands were clammy. The girls were uncharacteristically quiet and she knew why. Suppressing a great sigh, she launched into her prepared remarks.

* * *

"Do you think she looks sad?" Mildred asked her friends over lunch.

"Who?" mumbled Enid around a mouthful of pastrami sandwich.

"Miss Cackle," said Mildred, glancing up to the head of the table. Their headmistress did look very downcast to all of them. Tired in a way they'd never seen before, or perhaps just never noticed.

"Probably upset that everyone thinks HB is…you know…" said Maud, gesturing vaguely before tucking back in to her lunch.

Mildred thought back to Miss Cackle's address that morning. She'd mentioned the rumours about Miss Hardbroom and that they were a misunderstanding that would soon be sorted out, but hadn't offered anything by means of a real explanation. It bothered Mildred to see Miss Cackle so worried and unhappy after all Miss Cackle had done for her.

"We should do something," Mildred proposed. "Something to cheer her up."

"Like what?" Maud asked, more invested now.

"Like…" Mildred drew out the word as she searched for an idea. "Enid, do you still have that hiccupping potion that went wrong from last term? The one that turned into little crystals made you feel all warm and giggly?"

Enid nodded. "Yeah, why?" Beside her Maud frowned, keenly aware that the glint in Mildred's eye usually meant trouble.

"Tonight, we could take it to her office and leave it on her desk," suggested Mildred. "As a gift."

"Ooh!" said Enid excitedly. "Or sprinkle some in her sugar bowl!"

"Exactly," said Mildred, delighted. "That way, when she has a cup of tea tonight she'll have a laugh. She deserves a bit of fun."

"I dunno…" said Maud, always the one to question the wisdom of Mildred's more…creative ideas. "If she catches us she might not be impressed."

"We'll just explain that we wanted her to feel better," insisted Mildred.

"It's a brilliant plan," added Enid. "Come on, Maud."

Maud sighed and seeing she was outnumbered she nodded her head. "Alright," she agreed, causing Mildred and Enid to beam with delight. The term was off to a thrilling start.

* * *

Enid slipped into Mildred's room when it neared bedtime to find Maud and Mildred waiting for her.

"I've got it," Enid grinned, producing a tiny vial of fine blue crystal from her pocket. "One improvised laughter potion."

"We should test it first," Maud suggested. " _Just_ in case it's changed over the break. Sometimes potions can get funny if they're stale."

"Good plan," said Mildred. Enid was already uncorking the bottle and shaking a few crystals onto her hand. Tentatively she tipped them into her mouth.

There was silence as the three girls waited with bated breath.

"Well?" said Mildred after a time, growing impatient.

"I don't feel anything," said Enid slowly.

Maud frowned, remembering the intense giggles the potion had induced last year. "You should…let me try." Enid passed her the vial and Maud carefully sprinkled out a small portion onto her hand and licked it off. "I forgot how sweet it tasted," she remarked.

"Do you feel anything yet," asked Mildred, peering at the pair of them.

"No…" said Maud hesitantly. "…Wait. I think…"

Enid was smiling too brightly; it was unnatural. She started to tremble and twitch before she doubled over and burst out in a fit of laughter. The sight set Maud off too and the pair of them clutched at each other for support as they bellowed. It wasn't enough to keep them upright and they sunk to the floor with tears streaming from their eyes.

"I'd say it still works," said Mildred smiling. "Are you two alright?"

"AHAHAHAHAHA...yes!" managed Maud as she gasped between peals of laughter. "It's gotten…AHAHAHA…a bit…"

"STRONGER!" finished Enid, clutching her side.

"Shhh," Mildred hushed. "It's almost lights out, and Miss Drill might catch us."

"S-s-sorry, Millie," said Maud weakly, still giggling animatedly.

"We ought to go now," worried Mildred. "Are you do going to calm down enough to do this or what?"

Enid was still rolling back and forth on the floor, which was answer enough.

"I'll have go by myself," declared Mildred. "Maud, do you have the note to go with it?"

Maud, one hand still clamped over her mouth to stifle her unending giggling, pointed to a scrap of parchment on the dresser.

"Thanks," said Mildred, snatching it up. "I'll be right back. Try to keep quiet."

"Good luck, Millie!" Enid chuckled.

Mildred grinned and tutted. Well. At least they knew it worked!

* * *

The door to Miss Cackle's office was ajar, which was odd. Mildred decided perhaps it was best to knock gently, but when it garnered no answer she peered her head around the door.

Empty. How peculiar. But it had been a peculiar first day.

Mildred crept inside, closing the door behind her and blinking in the dim light of Miss Cackles office. A room with which she was undoubtedly very familiar. The plan had always been to place the vial on Miss Cackles desk, but after the sheer luck of having the door unlocked Mildred looked around for the tea tray. The sugar bowl would be better, and she could tuck the note underneath it by way of an explanation.

She finally spotted it, a tea set perched on a high shelf that required her to stretch onto her tip toes to reach it down. She'd just lifted the lid off the sugar bowl when she heard footsteps and voices in the corridor. She froze.

"The girls are in bed, Ada. It's time we had a discussion."

_No!_ Mildred thought. It was HB's voice. Perhaps it was all a lie and she really did have her powers. Mildred didn't think she'd take to kindly to finding Mildred sprinkling her class work into Miss Cackles sugar.

"Of course, what about Hecate?"

The footsteps were growing louder and Mildred panicked. Slamming the lid back on the sugar bowl she looked around frantically. There was a large wardrobe that stood opposite the window and seeing no alternative she ducked inside, pulling the door shut behind her just as the door to Miss Cackles office creaked open.

Mildred found herself squeezed in between hanging cloaks and sweaters. Light trickled through the crack between the doors as someone – Miss Cackle presumably – turned on the lights. Peering through the space, Mildred could see Miss Cackle and HB standing in front of Miss Cackle's desk.

_Please don't look in here, please don't notice the tea tray._ Mildred wondered how she always managed to get herself into these messes. At least the potion was still in her pocket.

"I think you know what about," Miss Hardbroom was saying in her usual stiff manner. "Ada, I'd like to formally tender my resignation."


	6. A Long Story

"Sit down, Hecate. Let's talk this through."

Ada wasn't going to let Hecate leave without an explanation for a good number of things. Hecate knew this, but it hadn't stopped her from hoping. Before she could respond an odd rustling sound caught her attention and Hecate whirled around. "Did you hear that?"

Ada frowned. "Hear what?"

Hecate was already peering around the seemingly empty office. "I thought I heard something…" Inside the wardrobe Mildred was sweating through her cotton button-down and trying her best to stay very, _very_ still. She'd made the foolish mistake of straining to get a better look when she'd knocked a coat off its hanger and drawn unwanted attention. If she got through this undetected she vowed that she'd only try to listen.

After a moment of stillness, Hecate shook her head very slightly. "Perhaps it was nothing," she relented.

"More than likely," said Ada, crossing to her favourite chair and settling herself down. She looked expectantly at Hecate, who remained standing at attention.

Ada looked at Hecate and then at the chair opposite her meaningfully. Awkwardly Hecate perched on the edge of it, looking as if she might flee at any moment. There was a long, painful silence.

Wordlessly, Hecate drew out a copy of _The Daily Spell_ and lay it on the table in between them.

Ada glowered at it. The article was a filthy, horrible lie. She knew it must be.

"It's not true," Ada said simply. "You must know that I know that."

Hecate nodded slowly, looking ashamed. "It's not true," she agreed. "But it might as well be."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Hecate twisted her hands together, looking very small indeed. "There is enough…evidence out there. Evidence that I am responsible for and that is not easily explained. I think…That is, I believe it would be in the best interest of the school if I abdicated my position. Immediately."

"Evidence," repeated Ada. Hecate said nothing. "You mean that permit from several decades ago. That evidence?"

Hecate hung her head. "You know about that then."

"Yes," said Ada, adjusting her glasses. "But what I don't understand is why you would have ever applied for one in the first place?"

Hecate closed her eyes, reliving a particularly difficult and distant memory. "It's …a long story," she whispered.

"I've got time," said Ada, gently. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Do not think you will think well of me at the end of it, Ada," Hecate warned. "I…I know how much integrity means to you. Means to this school. And in the past my behavior…my… _convictions_ failed to meet the standard which you have set. And for that reason, I am afraid I have disappointed you."

Ada didn't believe Hecate capable of disappointing her at all, let alone not on the massive scale that she seemed to be implying. "Perhaps so," she admitted softly, "but I'll be the judge of that."

Hecate stared at the floor, half lost in her memories. She had never been one to dwell on the past, as she rarely saw the point. What was done was done. She didn't like thinking about it, let alone speaking about it, but Ada deserved an explanation. After all she had done for her over the years, surely Hecate thought she owed her that. Even if it meant weathering Ada's disappointment, her scorn over what Hecate saw as her greatest personal failing.

Hecate wasn't sure how much time had passed in silence as Ada waited, but eventually she found the courage to lift her head.

Ada met her gaze with a watery smile. "From the beginning now," she said gently, more as if she were coaxing a worry from the lips of a first year than from her right hand.

"The beginning," said Hecate nodding. "The beginning would have to be my second year at Witches Training College when Miss Broomhead took me on as her student."

Ada narrowed her eyes. Miss Broomhead's reputation proceeded her, though Hecate had very rarely spoke of her personally. Ada knew scant details: that Miss Broomhead been her personal tutor, that it was from her Hecate had mastered the art of disappearing, moving, and reappearing on her students at the most inopportune moments. She was known as one of the strictest and most powerful instructors in the academic world. Ada assumed by now she'd have been retired for decades.

"Miss Broomhead's interest in me wasn't strictly academic, though I didn't realize that at the time. We'd met over the holidays after my first year as I was one of the few students who boarded at the school between terms instead of returning, um, home."

Hecate had spoken of her home even more reluctantly than she ever had of Miss Broomhead, something Ada had learned long ago after gentle prodding on the subject had led to Hecate avoiding the staff room for an entire term.

"So, she was... _interested_ in you?" asked Ada, feeling slightly queasy about the possibility of a teacher being romantically involved with Hecate as a student.

Hecate caught Ada's expression and her eyebrows shot up. "No!" she exclaimed, slightly too loudly for the room. She shook her head. "No... Not interested like that. In fact, she would've…well that's very much beside the point."

Ada pursed her lips at that. "So, what did interest her about you? If not your academic record?"

"That was part of it," Hecate said matter-of-factly. "I was clever. Disciplined and powerful, particularly for a witch of my age. But I was also…"

Hecate's voice lowered. "I was also profoundly unpopular. I had no friends to socialize with outside of class and no family to mirror or write home to. I played no sport, had no artistic talent…or strong desire to develop one for that matter. I was..."

 _Vulnerable,_ thought Ada sadly. _Young, gifted, and isolated._ All warning signs she looked out for in her own pupils.

"I was unwanted," finished Hecate quietly. "By everyone except for her."

Ada bit her lip. She wanted to insist that Hecate was valued and wanted and if the world hadn't seen that back then it wasn't her fault. But Hecate was finally opening up and Ada feared interrupting.

"She was kind to me," Hecate continued, speaking faster now, as the floodgate inside of her burst. "Very kind, in fact. It's not that she wasn't strict, for she was. With me most of all, but it wasn't… malicious. The few of us that she chose to tutor, she loved us in her own way. She believed in us and demanded perfection. She might have been brutal and unforgiving at times, but she could be gentle when she wanted to be. Generous, even."

Ada thought Hecate sounded a touch defensive, and she sought to quell that. "I understand," she said softly. With no one else to turn to, of course Hecate's loyalty to anyone who showed her kindness would have proven immense and immovable. Hadn't that pattern repeated itself with Ada after being hired on as her Deputy? Hadn't Agatha taken advantage of that very same loyalty just last term?

Hecate stared at Ada in surprise. "Do you?"

"A little, my dear," said Ada. Ada, who would never dream of using Hecate's devotion for ill purposes, who couldn't imagine the cruelty of someone who would.

Hecate shook her head bitterly. "I should have known that she didn't…well…it was foolish of me."

"She gave you affection and a sense of belonging," Ada pointed out. "You aren't weak for wanting either, Hecate. Or for feeling loyal to those who show them to you."

"Perhaps not," admitted Hecate, not looking entirely convinced. "But that isn't an excuse for what I did."

"Which was what, exactly?" asked Ada, peering over her glasses.

"Miss Broomhead's academic pursuits were…thorough. To say the least," Hecate explained. "It started small. Finding ingredients for certain potions that weren't available through the school's conventional suppliers, for example. It was all supposed to be an academic exercise. She insisted that true wisdom couldn't come without understanding the nature of dark magic."

Ada knit her eyebrows together, but she said nothing.

"I didn't dare disagree with her." Hecate continued. "Besides, as she pointed out, one must often brew a poison to determine its antidote. It started with the standard canon: a draught of living death, the various mixtures of despair… but Miss Broomhead became rather more enamored with the poisons as our work expanded beyond its original scope."

Hecate's cheeks burned crimson and she dropped her gaze again to the floor. "In my final year, she set out to replicate the Six Sins of Siavon Dusk. We were to raise one of the dead."

Ada gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth too late to stifle the sound. In the wardrobe Mildred's eyes almost bulged out of her head.

"I should have left then," Hecate said, a faraway look in her eyes. "I'd done a number of less-than ethical things by that point, skirting safety rules, ordering from unauthorized suppliers. Enough to have me expelled, as she regularly reminded me. But nothing…nothing like this."

"The Devil's Demon," Ada supplied. The most important component of any necromancy potion.

"It wasn't available on any market, underground or not," Hecate explained. "The only source in the country - in all of Europe actually – was under ministry control."

"So, you applied for the permit," Ada sighed. "But, why did she have you do it? Surely that would look more suspicious? A student?"

Hecate winced. "Miss Broomhead had a black mark of her own in the eyes of the Ministry. A record for tampering with a dark magical artifact ten years prior. She told me it was all down to a miscommunication and I…I supposed in retrospect that wasn't true but I wanted to believe her."

Ada smiled tightly. She could see flashes of the young witch Hecate had once been; alone, frightened, desperate not to lose the only person who cared for her.

"I wouldn't expect you to know this," said Hecate. "But the sixth potion relies not only on several unusual ingredients, but also on a very particular brewing window. Under the path of Grigora's comet, on a moonless night doesn't come around more than once every few decades. Time was running out to make preparations. So…I…I applied."

"And it was approved," Ada said.

"Yes," Hecate whispered. "How I wished every day that it wasn't, but it was. She wouldn't even let me see the sample they sent, but there was no pretending this was still about my education. This was about her."

"She wanted to bring someone back?"

Hecate nodded. "Her mother. Together we brewed the sixth sin at her mother's grave under the comet, on the moonless night in June nineteen seventy six."

"And did it work?" Ada asked, a chill running down her spine.

"No." Hecate closed her eyes at the memory. "I…I sabotaged it. In one of the bravest and stupidest things I will ever do, I replaced the powdered scarab with ash. She never knew why it went wrong."

Ada stood and reached for Hecate's hands and found them chilled and trembling under her touch. Her whole body was trembling really, and it pained Ada to see her like this. Her eyes were still screwed shut, and her lip quivered something awful, but still she refused to cry.

"She was furious," Hecate managed, between short, sharp breaths. "Beyond furious…I'd never seen anything like it. That was the end of her time at the school. The end of us. I left her charge, graduated, and tried to forget any of it had ever happened. But I did do it, Ada. I'm so sorry."

"No," said Ada, pulling Hecate up into her arms and embracing her tight. "No, no. There is nothing to be sorry for, Hecate." And she meant it. If anything, she was impressed that Hecate had managed that one act of defiance.

Hecate - to her surprise - relaxed into Ada's hug, accepting the comfort she offered. She didn't know what she had expected, but it hadn't been such radical acceptance. Perhaps one day she would stop underestimating the depth of Ada's kindness and understanding, but for the moment she was just profoundly grateful.

There was only one thing that troubled Ada as she ran her hand in soothing circles over Hecate's back. One thing that didn't fit. "You never applied for that permit again," she said simply.

Hecate startled and looked up at Ada in surprise. "What?"

"A permit, for the Devil's Demon. You never applied for it again, did you?" Ada knew the answer, it was written in Hecate's appalled expression.

"Of course not," said Hecate. "Ada-"

Ada held up her hands to quiet her. "I know, I know you didn't. But Hecate, someone did." From her pocket, she produced a copy of the permit the Great Wizard had shown her with Hecate's signature at the bottom.

Hecate stared at the page, fire burning in her eyes. "She's going to try again," she said finally. "And she's still using me to do it."

Ada sighed. "Yes," she agreed. "I suspect she is."

Hecate's body went stiff and she stood, pushing Ada away. Her sharp demeanor was reforming at lightning speed. "She wouldn't be able to if I'd never helped her in the first place," Hecate spat, what little compassion she might have had for herself evaporated. "I- "

"Hecate-" Ada protested.

"Ada, I must insist you accept my resignation. The press will find this, somehow, if the Great Wizard doesn't find it first. It would destroy the school." She looked at Ada with pleading eyes. "I cannot have that on my conscience too."

Ada's swallowed thickly, groping around for a way to stall. "The Board convenes in three days. Will you give me until then to think about it?"

Hecate nodded, not without reluctance. "If you must," she said, waving a hand. Seeing the moment she would have transferred had she the magic to do so made Ada's chest tighten. Hecate dropped her hand, clenching it into a tight fist and she swept from the room.

 _Damn._ Ada thought about calling after her, or even running, but she thought better of it. At least she'd given her three days. Three days to sort out this bloody, miserable mess. Ada looked at the clock. It was late, later than she'd thought and it was time she went to bed.

"AaaaaaACHOO!"

Ada jumped. The wardrobe had sneezed.

Confusion gave way to horrified understanding as the wardrobe door creaked apologetically open to reveal a very shamefaced second year.

Ada Cackle was beside herself. "Mildred Hubble, you get out here this instant!"


	7. Life Isn't Always Fair

She'd done it now. Mildred's plan for cheering up Miss Cackle had backfired spectacularly, if the expression on her Headmistresses' face was anything to go by. Sheepish, Mildred clambered out of the wardrobe and stood before Miss Cackle.

Ada surveyed the girl with a look of uncharacteristic ill temper. Of all the things she might have expected tonight, Mildred Hubble hiding in her wardrobe had not been one of them. With some alarm, Ada desperately tried to recall everything the girl might have heard.

"Mildred, have you been in this cupboard the entire time?"

"Yes, Miss Cackle."

Ada frowned, "I may regret asking this, but, why exactly?"

"We…that is, I…" Here Ada suppressed an eye roll. It was very like Mildred to cover for her friends, but it did slow things down considerably.

"…I wanted to give you this," Mildred finished, producing the bottle from her pocket.

Ada inspected the potion bottle carefully. "Cheeriness potion crystals. I see." She glanced meaningfully at the out of place tea tray, having now put it and Mildred together.

Mildred caught the look and blushed. "Well, maybe give isn't the exact word."

"It appears I'm going to have to have a word with the second-year class about dosing Cackles Academy staff at this rate," said Ada, not looking amused. "I didn't realize you all lacked basic common sense on the subject."

"I'm sorry, Miss Cackle," Mildred said.

Ada drew herself up to her full height, looking every bit as intimidating and Miss Hardbroom could be. "So, let me see if I have this straight, Mildred. In the interest of spreading your little bit of artificial happiness you snuck into my office after hours."

"Yes, Miss Cackle."

"And you hid in that wardrobe to avoid getting caught and taking responsibility for your unsavory actions?"

"Yes, Miss Cackle."

"And, you overheard every word of what was supposed to be a private and confidential conversation."

Mildred squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. Why couldn't she just have left well enough alone! "Yes, Miss Cackle."

There was silence for a moment. Mildred anxiously awaited her punishment, praying this wasn't what finally sent her home for good.

Ada found herself at a crossroads. There was an obvious path, easy and one that might prove satisfying to vent her anger, but wasn't the right one. And the right one always won Ada over in the end.

Ada sighed. "Sit down, Mildred. Have a lemon drop."

Mildred's head snapped up. "S-s-sorry?"

Ada was gesturing to the crystal jar of sweets on the table. "Sit," she implored. "And have a sweet."

"O…kay," Mildred said, utterly perplexed. Cautiously she leaned over and plucked a sweet from the jar. Ada took one for herself as well, taking her time unwrapping it before popping it in her mouth. Mildred followed suit silently, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ada rolled the sugary sweet around her mouth, pondering how best to begin. Mildred's propensity for smashing rules and boundaries to smithereens was clearly going to be an ongoing issue. Unfortunately, this one wasn't going to be easily managed with a reversing spell and detention.

After what felt to Mildred like an eternity, Ada spoke in her usual measured tone. "I don't think Miss Hardbroom would appreciate having been overheard, do you?"

Mildred's eyes widened. "No, Miss Cackle."

"I'm hesitant to suggest this, lest you get the wrong idea, but how about we don't mention it to her? In fact, Mildred, you're not to mention any of what you've heard in this office to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Cackle. I won't. I promise."

"Good," said Ada, peering at Mildred over her glasses. "Except, to me, of course. I imagine you heard a little more than you'd bargained for tonight."

Mildred nodded, looking troubled. Listening to her teachers had been somehow frightening and overwhelming and infuriating all at once.

"And what do you make of it, dear?"

Mildred thought for a moment, squirming in her chair as she did so. Several different trains of thought competed for her attention.

"It's all right, Mildred," coaxed Ada kindly. "What is it?"

"It's just…it's hard to imagine Miss Hardbroom ever doing dark magic," said Mildred, tripping over the words. "I mean…she's really scary sometimes – I mean, not _scary_ scary, just in class she can be a bit…but she's not _evil._ Not like Aga—I mean, not…not _bad._ "

She looked at Ada helplessly, and Ada would have laughed if it weren't all so serious. "I know what you mean, Mildred. I'm sure it is a strange to imagine Miss Hardbroom involved in something like that."

"Then, why would she?" asked Mildred frowning as she tried to make sense of it.

Ada sighed. She had a good idea as to why. Possibly a better one than Hecate herself did to be honest.

"Sometimes, Mildred, the people we love don't… have our best interests at heart. And that can be quite difficult to see."

Mildred nodded and Ada continued. "Sometimes, even if you do see it, it's too late or even unsafe to do anything about it. Especially without friends to help you. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose so," said Mildred. Without Maud and Enid, Mildred was sure she'd have been thrown out of Cackles in the first week. She couldn't imagine how lonely the world would be without friends, even if there were no trouble around at all.

"It doesn't make it right," Ada added. "Dark magic is against the Code, no matter the reason for preforming it. But there are instances of extenuating circumstances."

"And this is one of those," said Mildred, thinking hard. "Because Miss Hardbroom was Miss Broomhead's student? And Miss Broomhead was supposed to take care of her? But she didn't."

"That's right," said Ada, pleased that her explanation seemed to have landed.

There was a pause while Mildred absorbed this idea. She stared at the copy of _The Daily Spell_ still lying on the coffee table, it's headline easily readable even upside-down. The profound unfairness of the rumours she'd heard flying through the corridors all day made Mildred angry.

"But, that all happened ages ago," insisted Mildred. "Miss Hardbroom hasn't done anything wrong now. Why should she be punished? It isn't fair."

Ada raised her eyebrows. "Indeed, it is not, Mildred. But life isn't always fair."

Mildred didn't seem content with that. It was something her Mum always said whenever Mildred complained about fairness. Life isn't fair. Well, it should be, thought Mildred.

Maybe she could make it fair…for Miss Hardbroom at least. The irony of how unfair Miss Hardbroom could be to her wasn't lost on her, but that seemed inconsequential to her now. The gears in Mildred's mind began to turn…

Ada noted the look on Mildred's face and felt compelled to issue a reminder. "Not a word, Mildred, not even to Maud or Enid."

Mildred looked vaguely guilty. "Yes, not a word," she replied, stifling a yawn.

"I think it's time you were in bed, Mildred," said Ada.

Mildred got to her feet, swaying slightly. It wasn't until she stood up that she realized how exhausted she was. "Goodnight, Miss Cackle," she replied sleepily.

Ada simply smiled at her in response, before raising her hand and transferring the girl up to the dormitories.

There. The damage of Mildred was contained, at least for the time being. And it when it came to Mildred Hubble contained was often the best one could hope for.

* * *

Mildred woke frightfully early the next morning with a brilliant idea. She lay in her bed, watching the sun rise through her open window and growing more sure and excited by the moment.

She just needed Maud and Enid's help. Her promise to Miss Cackle not to tell was a thorn in her plan, but perhaps not all promises were meant to be kept.


	8. Fragments

“Maud! Pssst! Maud.”

Maud blinked to see Mildred leaning over her bed.

“Mildreddd,” she complained, throwing an arm over her face to block the light. “What on earth are you doing up?”

Mildred glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d waited until six-fifteen, and she couldn’t wait a second more. Besides! The sun was already up.

“Maud, listen to me, Miss Hardbroom is being framed!”

Maud stirred at that. “Framed?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “How do you know that?”

Mildred swallowed. “I just do!” she insisted. “And we’ve got to help her. Come on, let’s go wake Enid and I’ll tell you my plan.”

Maud looked at her as if she were deranged, before shaking her head. “Second day of term,” she grumbled, shoving off her covers. “It’s only the second _day._ ”

* * *

The sight of second years working so diligently in the library this early in the year was not one Miss Bat was used to, but there they were, huddled around a great tome they’d spent a good hour tracking down. If she’d had more energy she might have wondered what had captured their attention so, but she was already tired from missing her afternoon nap to cover Hecate’s turn supervising study sessions and at least the girls were being reasonably quiet. For once.

“Okay,” whispered Maud to her friends. “I’ve found it. This one, with the green tendrils with purple spikes…look.”

Maud turned the book to face the others. Mildred and Enid crowded around the page of _Rare and Dangerous Plants; a Series of Dire Warnings_ that Maud had found. It showed a slow-moving picture of a viscous looking plant labeled “Pravum Diabolusfolius”.

Mildred grinned. “So, do you think the glamour could make a regular rose bush look like it?” she asked.

Maud frowned. “Pravum Diabolusfolius-“

“Shhh!” hushed Mildred, glancing warily over her shoulder at a snoozing Miss Bat.

“Sorry,” Maud hissed back. “…the…plant thing. It says here it’s known to grow to almost eighteen feet tall! I dunno Millie, that’s a lot bigger than I’ve tried before.”

“It doesn’t have to be that big,” Mildred insisted. “Just enough to convince someone it’s sprouted. That’s all.”

“I could try,” said Maud, still looking skeptical.

“I don’t see how pretending the plant is spreading is going to help HB,” Enid pointed out.

“It will, I promise,” insisted Mildred. “Maud, just memorize what it looks like.”

Maud shrugged and went back to studying the page.

* * *

 

Hecate stood stiffly in the corner of her room, watching Minerva gather up her things. The healer would be leaving soon – though not soon enough by Hecate’s estimation. She’d had quite enough of overly cheerful small talk and practicing the same basic charms over and over again under her scrutiny. A Potions Mistress who couldn't heat up a cup of tea. What a joke. Idly Hecate wondered who Ada had found to fill in her post. At any other time, Hecate would have been exceedingly invested in who Ada would put in charge of her potions laboratory. They had standards to maintain after all and the girls needed a firm, competent instructor who would demand excellence from them, but in that moment Hecate couldn’t bring herself to care.

The healer was saying something, and Hecate dragged herself out of her thoughts and into the present.

“…the water glass levitation and spells like it should be all you attempt on your own for the next few months-“

“Months?!” sputtered Hecate, realizing the healer was referring to their tedious exercises. She’d been lifting and dropping the same poor water glass several times a day, to varying degrees of success.

Minerva sighed. “Yes, Hecate,” she said, tucking the last of her equipment into her comically large carpet bag. “Months.” She heaved the bag onto the floor and fished around in her pocket for something. A mirror card, apparently. She offered it to Hecate, who made no move to take it.

“Dr. Batsbane’s office,” Minerva explained. “With this it will connect you without the need for magic.”

Yes. As if she didn’t know how a mirror card worked. In a slow and jerky movement, Hecate extended her hand to accept the offering, keeping as much distance as possible from Minerva as she plucked the card from her hand.

Minerva sighed and went about shrinking her carpet bag until it was about the size of a cat.

“If you ask me,” she went on. “He’s taken a great interest in you.”

“So, I gathered,” remarked Hecate airily, recalling his enthusiastic interviews. She did not enjoy being found so ‘fascinating’.

“He’s included his direct office mirror,” Minerva said, gesturing at the card that was now firmly clutched in Hecate’s fist.

Good, Hecate was going to have words with him about this proposed months of water glass levitation he seemed to think she’d need. At this rate, she’d be performing magic at the second-year level in a mere two decades and that was unacceptable to her.

Minerva looked Hecate over one last time, a queer expression on her face. She usually quite liked her patients, but Hecate was impossible to read. Sympathy, concern, attempts at humour…nothing seemed to touch her. A more guarded witch, Minerva had yet to meet. Sighing she snapped her fingers and her broom appeared at her side.

“I should be off,” said Minerva. “Good luck with everything, Hecate.”

Hecate met her gaze and knew that the words were sincere. She ought to at least try and show at least a hint of pleasantry at their parting. She managed a fraction of a smile that looked more like a grimace than she meant it to. Minerva smiled awkwardly back and vanished.

Hecate stared at the empty space where the healer had just stood. Luck, was it? Luck was going to have nothing to do with it. She glanced down at the mirror card and contemplated flinging it into another dimension, or at least across the room. She didn’t, instead she tucked it away in her dress pocket. She would mirror Barty. Immediately.

Hecate rarely ever used the mirror in her room. It sat covered by a dusty cloth and buried under a pile of textbooks on her desk. Hecate shoved the books aside with uncharacteristic disregard for them and snatched up the mirror. Balancing it on her desk, Hecate sat opposite and pulled the mirror card from her pocket. She twirled it between her fingers for a moment, feeling a pang of despair that made her chest heavy.

At once she snapped the card face-down on the desk. A mirror call was hardly advanced magic and Hecate couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to manage it.

 _Bartholomew Batsbane_ she willed the mirror. She shouldn’t have, but she felt a prickle of magic burn in her sternum.

 _Bartholomew Batsbane. Bartholomew Batsbane._ The mirror went cloudy as if it were about to connect, but the mist wouldn’t clear. _Bartholomew Batsbane._ Still nothing. Her irritation was growing, despite her best efforts at remaining calm and focused. A witch must always be in control. She took a deep breath and pulled harder, deeper, desperate to have this one simple thing just work. For a moment, the room was perfectly still.

And then, with a piercing shriek, the mirror cracked. Hecate froze, feeling as if she were watching the world in slow motion. Pieces of mirror scattered and pinged off the desk, onto the floor, around her feet. Hecate remained a statue, too shocked to react. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that. It could have been seconds or minutes or more. Her magic was less than useless, it was destructive and broken. She was destructive and broken.

Hecate didn’t remember starting to cry. It wasn’t until a strangled sort of sob reached her ears and she realized with a jolt that it had come from her.

* * *

The students all have their theories as to how Miss Hardbroom always seems to appear when they’re misbehaving. Whether it’s a blown-up potion or midnight feasts, she was always quick to materialize and hand out detentions. None of them are quite sure how she manages it, or why they sometimes complete their mischief without punishments.

The answer was quite boring actually. It was difficult to say precisely how many enchantments and alert spells had been cast upon Cackles over the years, but they covered a stunningly wide array of dangers and happenstance. Magical education was _exceedingly dangerous,_ something the girls were often blissfully unaware of, but Hecate Hardbroom wasn’t. She received about fifteen different magical alarms a day, (averaging twenty-one now, since Mildred’s enrollment) alerting her to potential hazards the girls might have caused so that she might be there to set things right.

She hadn’t received one now though, despite the fact that a broken mirror was great cause for concern. But someone had.

“Hecate?”

Ada. Ada, who had modified the alert spells to inform to her instead of Hecate, knowing there was nothing Hecate could do about them. Ada, who had dropped everything in the middle of her far-too-busy day to be there the moment she’d known something was wrong.

Hecate couldn’t look at her, not even when she felt Ada’s hand on her shoulder or her kind voice in her ear. Her cheeks burned with frustration and mortification. This wasn’t happening to her. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening-

“Hecate,” said Ada a little bit louder, trying to shake the woman away from her spiralling thoughts. Ada moved in closer and brought her hand to touch Hecate’s cheek. Gently she wiped away a few tears with the pad of her thumb. “Come back to me, my dear.”

Hecate finally looked up, eyes wide, as if seeing Ada for the first time. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I didn’t think I could break it, I just wanted…I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Ada soothingly.

But it wasn’t. Hecate swallowed hard. “Seven years of bad luck,” she said miserably. What a prospect.

“Nonsense,” replied Ada. “There’s still plenty of time to reverse that.” It had been a while since Ada had cracked a mirror, but Agatha used to break them on a regular basis, which left Ada well versed in how to counter the bad luck that came with it.

“But I can’t,” said Hecate dejectedly. “The witch who breaks it must cast the counter spells. I don’t dare, Ada.”

Ada knew that, but she had momentarily forgotten about it before she’d spoken. Mentally she kicked herself for the oversight.

"What if I helped you?” Ada wondered aloud. “What if you acted as a conduit for my power? That ought to do the trick, shouldn’t it?”

Hecate frowned, thinking for a moment. It wasn’t entirely out of the question. Could it work? Having a problem to think about cleared Hecate's head more than anything else could have done. She started thinking through the possible avenues. The difficulty would be keeping focus, she decided. There was no way to be sure Ada’s power wouldn’t be scrambled and uncontrolled once it was channeled through Hecate’s own.

“It’s…possible,” Hecate admitted after a spell.

“But?”

“We could not guarantee the outcome,” Hecate said, standing now and pacing as she often did when fixating on something challenging.

Ada watched nervously as Hecate’s bare feet came perilously close to stepping on a stray mirror shards. “It’s worth a try, surely,” Ada suggested. Combining their magic in this way would be more personal than any spells they’d shared in casting before, but not entirely foreign.

“It’s risky,” said Hecate, still pacing. “But it could be less risky, I suppose. I…wait right there.”

Ada pulled a pouch from her pocket and set it on the desk. “I already have the salt,” she said, assuming that was Hecate’s concern.

“No, not that,” said Hecate breathlessly as she rummaged through her bookshelf. “Though we will of course need it,” she added, holding up a small brass key.

Ada watched her curiously. Hecate had an economy of movement about her again and pleased Ada to see it, even if she wasn’t quite sure what the woman was after.

Hecate snatched up a narrow mahogany box that was sitting on her desk and used the key to pop it open, revealling an ornate quill. She turned to Ada, looking anxious again.

“Erm, and what am I looking at exactly?” Ada asked, not quite understanding.

“It needs a disillusion charm,” said Hecate. “Would you…?”

Ada nodded and passed her hand over the box. The quill disappeared, revealing the true contents to be a slender crystal wand.

Ada made a sound of surprise low in her throat. “Well! You’ve kept that very quiet, Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Witches shouldn’t use wands,” sniffed Hecate, looking a bit defiant. “But…what the Great Wizard doesn’t know-“

“-certainly won’t hurt him,” finished Ada. “I always thought that was a preposterous rule anyhow. There are far too many antiquated rules on the books.”

Hecate shrugged. She may have agreed, but she wasn’t going to go so far as to disparage _rules._

“I thought it might help,” said Hecate, plucking the wand from its case and curling her fingers around it. “It will give the magic a focal point so that I don’t crack the wall next. If you don’t object.”

“I have no objection,” said Ada. As if she would. One day she was going to have to show Hecate the cedar staff that had been hiding in the back of her closet for the last three decades. But that was not a subject for the present time.

Hecate inclined her head shyly, inviting Ada to stand closer to her. Without her usual impossibly-high heeled boots Hecate was hardly any taller than Ada and she felt strangely exposed without them.

In small careful movements, Ada came up behind Hecate’s shoulder and pressed one hand to the small of her back. She expected tension, but Hecate seemed to relax into her instead. Ada took this as a good sign.

Hecate held the wand aloft in front of her and Ada reached around to cover Hecate’s hand with her own. Hecate closed her eyes, feeling the press of Ada’s body flush against her own, warm and safe. She could feel Ada’s magic humming beneath the surface, waiting.

“When you’re ready,” Ada murmured. “You’re in control.”

 _Am I?_ Hecate wondered, as she gathered her thoughts. The mirror fragments had to rotate counter clockwise twice and then return precisely into place. There would not be a chance to get it right a second time.

“Yes,” Hecate whispered back. “Slowly.”

A gentle flow of magic seeped into Hecate from Ada’s hands and Hecate’s breath hitched. It was a softer feeling than she’d expected, one that made her feel both steadier and unbalanced all at once. Ada’s magic twined with hers, coaxing it from her core and straightening out it’s tangles. Concentrating, she channeled all of their combined power to the wand in her hand, willing the mirror to reform.

The shards of mirror gave a promising tremble, but it wasn’t quite enough to lift them. Ada deepened their connection, offering more strength to Hecate. Slowly but surely the pieces lifted and spun, sending tiny rays of light reflecting in all directions. Ada thought it was beautiful. Like being in a trance.

Hecate felt her heart soar as the pieces of the mirror reformed perfectly into the frame. The magic moving through her didn’t feel like hers exactly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Nor did it any of it feel unwelcome she realized, as she caught sight of Ada holding her in the newly repaired mirror. Hecate stared at the reflection of the two of them, overcome with emotion.

It wasn’t until Ada’s hand squeezed hers that Hecate realized they weren’t finished. She reached into pouch Ada had set out, pulling out a pinch of salt. In one smooth motion, she flicked it towards the mirror and snapped her fingers.

“ _Incinerate,_ ” Hecate muttered under her breath. The salt burned in a flash that blackened the mirror’s surface for a moment before fading away, leaving no trace.

Ada stepped back from Hecate and clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh, well done!” she cried.

Hecate smiled, possibly for the first time since this entire ordeal had begun. Even though Ada had broken contact, she could still feel traces of Ada’s magic lingering in her. Fading. She could feel her own feeble power wilt without Ada’s there alongside to buoy it. Hecate felt herself longing for Ada back, even if she’d just hold her and stave off the empty feeling that was hollowing out her chest.

“Would you like me to call someone for you?” Ada offered, gesturing at the mirror.

Hecate shook her head. She didn’t want to speak to Barty anymore, she needed a moment. Or two. To think.

“It’s alright,” Hecate found herself saying. “It can keep for the time being.”

“Very well,” said Ada. With a snap of her fingers she produced a maglet from thin air. “I know you hate them,” she said, when Hecate scowled at it. “But if you need me? Please?”

Hecate’s scowl faded. It was a point of contact with Ada. Insufficient as it might have been compared with what Hecate wanted, she wasn’t about to turn it down. Hecate took the device, keenly aware of her hands brushing Ada’s as she did so. Hecate’s magic lurched at the contact, causing something akin to a static shock. Both women jumped and Hecate opened her mouth to apologize, but Ada was already shaking her head.

“Left over from the spell, I expect,” said Ada nonchalantly. “Not to worry.”

Hecate felt a rush of gratitude towards Ada for making it so easy. She didn’t need to apologize and she didn’t need to explain. She clutched the maglet to her chest. “I will message you if need be,” Hecate said softly. “Thank you.”


	9. True Love and Other Unusual Magical Bonds

Hecate snapped her pocket watch open and closed for the third time in as many minutes. Sixty more seconds until the castle occupants would all be at supper, leaving the corridors empty for her to slip out of her room unseen. Her fingers itched to transfer and the delay in gratification was irksome to say the least, but she willed herself to be patient.

She took the time to make sure she had everything with her that she wanted. The extra keys had added weight to her chatelaine but she didn’t dare leave any of them behind in case they were needed. She had her candle, matches, her quill, a bottle of ink, and a foot of parchment on which she’d been scribbling for the better part of two hours. She drew it out and scanned it again. All good research started with a theory and a list of possible avenues. And Hecate Hardbroom was an exceptional researcher.

She glanced down at her watch again and it was finally, _finally,_ six o’clock. She marched out the door, regretting the sharp staccato sound her heels made against the stone floor despite the fact that there shouldn’t be anyone to hear it. Glancing anxiously around, relieved to see no one, she made for a seldom-used staircase. Seldom-used because it wasn’t an efficient way to get, well, anywhere, but that was precisely what drew Hecate to it now. The thought of facing any of the students at the moment was…undesirable, to say the least.

The stairway narrowed as it went down, spiraling tighter and tighter as it got closer to the basement. ‘The Dungeons’ as the pupils like to call it, but it hadn’t been one in several centuries. Hecate peered into the gloom and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. These days, the basement of Cackles more resembled a particularly eclectic set of walk in closets than a dungeon. Here, far away from the kitchens which saw actual daily use, this was especially true. Hecate was going to have to speak to Ada about all of the storage bins that seemed to have taken up residence in the hallway, making it awkward and difficult to maneuver. 

Eventually, she found the door she’d been looking for. The narrow wooden frame with several layers of peeling paint may have looked unremarkable, but Hecate knew better. Flipping through her keys she found a tiny silver one and slipped it in the lock. It made a horrendous screeching sound of metal-on-metal when it turned, but it did turn and the door swung open. Inside appeared to be the world’s tiniest living room. Ada’s idea, of course. A small area rug covered the floor, and virtually all of the space was occupied by a large armchair and an oversized cushion. A dozen different loose paintings formed a small, unsteady looking tower in the corner.  It would have almost appeared cozy, if crammed, had the entire thing not been covered in a thick layer of dust. 

Hecate locked the door behind her, wedging herself into the uncomfortably small space. She wasn’t used to entering this way. It was supposed to only be used if the staffroom entrance was compromised, which is was in Hecate’s opinion. Compromised by the fact that she didn’t want to speak to anyone. Crouching, she went through the paintings, trying to remember which one it was. Not the one with the kitten sitting in the cauldron…not the three women laughing on a broomstick…

Ah. The one of the apple pie with runes carved into it. When she saw it, Hecate remembered that being Ada’s choice when they’d set it up together. She picked up the picture and placed it carefully on the waiting hook on the wall. Then she waited.

It shouldn’t have taken magic to open, that was the point of this entry way. But still, Hecate fussed that it wouldn’t work. She needn’t have worried, after a moment she felt a shift in the air and knew the mechanism had been activated. It was oddly comforting to feel the magic of the castle so keenly, even if she couldn’t interact with it directly. She sunk into the armchair and inhaled deeply. Then, digging her heel into the floor she tipped the whole thing backwards. 

The chair fell right through the wall and plunged straight down into darkness. Hecate gripped the faded fabric armrests tight, bracing herself for the impact. It only lasted a moment and then the chair landed, magically upright, with a soft thump. 

It was pitch dark and Hecate breathed deeply, inhaling the much-loved scent of cedar and books. Hallmarks of the Cackles Academy secret library. Hecate drew out her candle and struck a match, lighting it with as much ease as she could have done with her gift. The soft glow revealed familiar rows upon rows of bookshelves, piled from floor to ceiling with great texts. The books here were only for faculty use. Some were simply teaching resources, while others dealt with subjects deemed too advanced or too dangerous for the pupils to have access to.

Methodically, Hecate moved about the room, lighting additional lamps with the flame of her candle until the library was fully illuminated. Usually this would have been accomplished with the snap of her fingers, but now the task was painstaking and Hecate found herself enjoying it. It was inefficient perhaps, but soothing. It reminded her of preparing the ritual fires at Lughnasadh, which were always done by hand, in slow careful movements to align everything perfectly. Preparation for a great magic.

Perhaps this too was preparation for magic in a way, Hecate thought. She hoped so. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled the first volume from her list off the shelf. _Extraordinary_ _Feats of Magical Healing in the 20 th Century. _Hecate cracked open the book and ran one manicured fingernail down the table of contents until she found a section that looked promising. _Chapter Seven: What Allows Ordinary Witches to Perform Extraordinary Feats?_

Settling herself in an overstuffed armchair, Hecate bent over the book and began to read.

* * *

If Ada had been paying any attention to the student body at dinner she might have noticed three particularly fidgety Year Two’s, but she wasn’t. Her mind was consumed with Hecate, with what she might do. Was there anything to do? Something had happened when she had helped Hecate repair the mirror, something Ada couldn’t quite explain. She’d never known another witches’ magic like that, never felt it’s flow quite so intensely, not even when casting with her coven.

She knew what Barty would have called it.

Still, now wasn’t the time for that. Now was the time for figuring out how to clear Hecate’s name. She doubted Hecate would ever come forward with the truth of Miss Broomhead to the Great Wizard, and she couldn’t blame her for it. She’d never be believed and the court of public opinion was already quite decided, if the papers were to be believed. (That mornings edition of _The Daily Spell_ lay smoldering in her fireplace. With no new developments to report, it was simply full of vile and wild speculations about Hecate that made Ada feel sick to read.) But Ada knew the truth. If only there were some way to prove Miss Broomhead was the culprit for this.

Little did Ada know, Mildred, Maud and Enid, were several steps ahead of her on that front. Immediately after supper, their meals only half eaten, the three girls convened in the castle courtyard. 

“I stashed our brooms in the hedge just outside the gate after P.E.,” Mildred said breathlessly. “Just a quick flight to the edge of Blackmire Grove and we’ll be all set.”

“I still don’t know about this Millie,” fussed Maud. “Even if I can manage the glamour, I don’t like the idea of being alone in the woods with a crazy sorceress. And that’s assuming we don’t get caught sneaking back in after curfew!”

“I’m not planning on being out after curfew,” said Mildred. “We’ll set the trap, and then fly back to the castle before lights out.”

“But how will that catch Miss…Broom…face or whatever,” asked Enid. “Don’t we have to stay and keep watch?”

Mildred tugged at one of her braids, a smile dancing on her face. “Well,” she said mischievously. “We don’t have to stay. We just need some way of keeping watch.” She looked meaningfully at Enid’s schoolbag and Enid gasped.

“Of course! The video camera! We can set it up and watch the trap from here on the maglet.”

Mildred beamed. “ _Exactly_. See Maud? It’s going to be a piece of cake.”

Maud did look mildly relieved at this development, but she remained anxious. “Alright,” she acquiesced. “But you do say that every time, you know that Mille?”

* * *

By three in the morning, Hecate was struggling to keep her eyes open. More than a dozen different books formed a rickety tower beside her as she flipped through yet another volume. Magic doesn’t simply just happen, there must be explanations, Hecate reasoned. For how Ada was able to heal her injuries when she shouldn’t have, for how it felt when she and Ada had repaired the mirror. There must be a _why._  

Hecate wasn’t sure she was any closer to finding it. The founding stone of Cackles Academy had a great many magical properties, but amplifying healing wasn’t one of them. The Devil’s Demon should have collapsed her gift, she still could not understand how it was still intact, even in the smallest of ways. She’d even gone so far as tracing Ada’s bloodline back several centuries, searching for relations to gifted healers that perhaps had gone unnoticed.

Hecate stood and stretched, her limbs stiff from hours of sitting hunched over books with impossibly small text. She yawned, worrying that all her work was coming to nothing and that she would have to go to bed with nothing to show for it. The thought did not appeal to her. She needed a fresh approach. 

And a pick-me-up. Striding quickly now, she made her way to the far corner of the library, her usual haunt where she kept an array of potions texts that covered mixtures too dangerous or tempting for young witches. She reached up, blindly groping about the top shelf until her fingers curled around a smooth potion bottle. _Wide Awake Potion._ Formally a staple of her diet, Hecate’s use of Wide Awake Potion had dropped off considerably after she’d settled in at Cackles. Here was the first place she’d ever been able to sleep soundly and she found she much preferred it.

She still kept a bottle on hand, and now seemed to be a good enough reason to partake. The potion had been stored on the bookcase for some time, but it was still potent enough, even if there only was a half measure left. Hecate drained the bottle and felt her heartrate increase immediately, followed by a familiar surge of energy. She chose to walk through the stacks in sharp, tight strides, working off some of the excess jitteriness Wide Awake Potion caused. She needed to approach the topic from a different angle. What if the basis for Ada’s healing was an external force or some kind of innate talent? What if somehow it was a product of their relationship?

Refreshed, and feeling oddly giddy – the potion she was sure – she pulled a copy of Mathilda Romsvein’s _True Love and Other Unusual Magical Bonds._ Her heart skipped a beat when she opened the cover and noted who’d written the forward: one Mr Bartholomew Batsbane.

Somehow, Hecate knew with certainty that she was on the right track.

* * *

Her own breakfast finished, Ada decided to bring Hecate a tray, only to discover last night's supper tray still outside Hecate’s door, untouched. Her knocks went unanswered and for the first time in her life, Ada burst through the door to Hecate's quarters, uninvited. She only searched for a few seconds before starting to panic. Hecate wouldn’t have left, would she? Without a word? Ada thought of the newspaper, of Hecate’s formal letter of resignation waiting on her desk and wondered if she'd taken matters into her own hands. Casting the finding spell was almost involuntary, her magic tinged with desperation.

Ada heaved a great sigh of relief when her spell pointed her to the faculty library. It made sense that Hecate would search out books when faced with a problem. She should have thought of that. But had the woman been there all night? Ada glanced back at the ignored supper tray in the doorway. She must be starving. Ada would be.

When she rematerialized in the library Ada was greeted by the sight of Hecate asleep, her long limbs folded ungracefully into an armchair and a book on her lap. She was snoring softly. Ada thought she looked so picturesque, with a few locks of hair that had escaped from her braid framing her face. It made Ada’s heart ache just to look at her.

Thinking she would be a lot more comfortable in her own bed, Ada set down the breakfast tray and moved to wake her, but stopped short when she saw the title Hecate had been reading. _True Love’s Kiss and Other Unconventional Healing Magic._  

Glancing around, Ada realized that was the theme of most of the books scattered haphazardly about Hecate’s chair. _The Case For True Love in Modern Times. Love, Lust, or Luck: An Analysis of the Survival in Magical Disasters. Better Than Laughter: The Role of Love in Magical Rehabilitation._

Ada’s heart leapt into her throat. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, Ada slipped the book out of Hecate’s hands and peered down at the page.

_“…nevertheless, Carson’s approximation of magical channeling through the kiss, while overly simplistic, forms a framework around which a treatment plan may be devised. Any avenue that permits the flow of magic from one partner to the other, which is to say any contact deemed sufficiently intimate, will provide an avenue for the couple’s magic to safely interact, prompting a healing response.”_

Hecate stirred, and Ada almost dropped the book in alarm.

“Ada?” Hecate mumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I’m right here,” said Ada softly.

“What time is it?” 

“Half past eight,” Ada informed her. “Forgive the intrusion. I worried when I couldn’t find you and I…I thought you might be hungry.”

Hecate blinked, taking the breakfast tray on the table and Ada standing over her. Then her eyes flitted to the book in Ada’s hand. 

“Oh! I…I was just…” Hecate didn’t quite know what to say. “Reading,” she finished weakly.

Ada bit her lip. There was no point in pretending. “Yes,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. She placed the book back in Hecate’s hands, open to the section she’d been reading. “This magic,” she said, pointing to the page. “Do you believe it could… work? Between you and I?”

Hecate flushed and looked down, unable to hold Ada’s gaze. “Yes,” she whispered finally. “I think so.”

“Hecate.” 

Ada blinked back tears as she bent to touch Hecate’s cheek, tipping the weary witch’s face up to look at her. A hopeful little tremor ran through Hecate as she looked into Ada’s shining blue eyes.

“Hecate, I think so too.”


	10. Not One-Sided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks especially to cassiopeiasara for listening to me go on about this chapter's challenges.

Hecate’s hands were trembling so intensely that the book she held looked poised to fall. Ada bent, her hands gently easing the book from Hecate’s grasp.

“Hecate?” Ada asked, concern mounting the longer Hecate remained silent.

Hecate’s head snapped up, her eyes searching Ada’s. “Really?” The word came unbidden, before Hecate could stop herself.

Ada smiled. Hecate need for reassurance was so earnest, so instinctive. So very her. And now that the subject was had been cracked wide open, words of reassurance came easily to Ada.

“Really,” Ada said, softly. “I love you, Hecate Hardbroom. I don’t know about True Loves or Soulmates or if any of this-“ Ada waved a hand vaguely at the fortress of books around Hecate. “-if any of it has basis in magical science, but…I do know that I love you. Of that, at least, I’m very sure.”

“Oh,” Hecate breathed. She looked to be on the verge of tears. “You…never said.”

A flicker of something crossed Ada’s face – regret perhaps? Something Hecate couldn’t place.

“I…I did believe it to be a rather one-sided sentiment,” Ada admitted.

“No,” said Hecate, standing now, fixing Ada with a serious look. “No, not one-sided.” 

It was Ada’s turn to be speechless for a spell as Hecate reached out to her, hands gently gripping Ada’s shoulders. How something so simple could be so intimate was beyond Ada. Every barrier she’d built over the years where Hecate was concerned came crashing, beautifully, down. 

Hecate could feel it. It was evident in the way Ada looked at her, lower lip quivering and blue eyes misty. Hecate pressed a gentle kiss to Ada’s cheek as if to seal her own declaration.

Joy bubbled up in Ada’s chest and she found herself half laughing and half crying simultaneously. “I am sorry,” she said, pressing a hand to her mouth, trying to regain some sort of composure. No one person was supposed to feel this much happiness and relief all at once, she was sure. 

“Please don’t be.” Hecate wrapped her arms around Ada properly, pulling her into a tight hug. Hecate’s legs were cramped from hours and hours of sitting, but she didn’t care, and she clung to Ada as if her life depended on it. Overwhelmed and overtired, Hecate pressed her cheek to the top of Ada’s head, crying her tears she didn’t know she had in her.

“My dear,” said Ada, rubbing soothing circles across Hecate’s back. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” said Hecate, lifting her head. “I’m am. I’m just...I’m so…” In her exhaustion, the right words eluded her.

“…happy,” Hecate finished quietly. She looked around at the library at the disaster of books and papers she’d made in her fervent search for answers about why Ada’s magic had affected her so. They were nothing compared to the evidence in front of her now.

“As am I,” said Ada. “Hecate, you cannot know how much.”

“I think I do.” Hecate cleared her throat. “I… very much hope I do.”

Ada smiled tenderly at her. Yes, perhaps Hecate did, which was the best feeling of all.

Hecate bit back a yawn, unable to quite hide it. “I wasn’t quite finished with my research,” she said, trying to distract Ada and failing miserably.

“I think you’ve done quite enough for now,” Ada smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Why, some very valuable conclusions were reached.”

Hecate gave a sharp laugh. “You might say that,” she said, smiling. Hecate stifled another yawn and Ada tutted.

“I think it’s time we got you to bed.”  

Hecate quirked an eyebrow at Ada, saying nothing and Ada blushed, realizing how risqué it had sounded. “I meant it’s time you had some rest. You may continue your research if you like, after some sleep and some food.”

Hecate felt a glimmer of excitement. There was something so thrilling about the way Ada colored at Hecate’s expression, something that had never been there before.  

“Very well,” she acquiesced. She was very weary and as much as she would have liked to explore their playful new flirtation, exhaustion won out in the end. She bent down to collect a few books to take with her and Ada magicked the others back into something resembling order. 

“Breakfast or sleep first?” Ada asked, as the breakfast tray she’d brought with her hovered in mid-air beside her.

“Sleep,” said Hecate, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Very well,” Ada smiled, and she reached for Hecate’s shoulder to transfer them away.

* * *

 “I can’t believe it didn’t work,” Mildred complained, as she fast-forwarded through the footage on Enid’s maglet for the fourth time that morning.

Maud sighed and pulled her spell science homework out of her bag, spreading it out on Mildred’s desk. “I told you Millie, there’s no point in watching it again. There’s no evil witch in it.” 

“But I was so sure she’d come back,” Mildred insisted, her eyes still glued to the tablet. 

“Why?” asked Enid, flopping down next to Mildred on the bed.

“Because the perpetrator always returns to the scene of the crime,” explained Mildred.

Enid giggled. “I think you watched to many of those CSI shows over the holidays, mate.” 

Mildred frowned. “…or…”

“Mildred Hubble.” Enid’s tone was equal parts teasing and concern.

“Or…I didn’t watch enough!” Mildred said, looking up in excitement. “The idea was right, but maybe the timeline was wrong!”

Enid looked confused. “The timeline?”

“Yes,” Mildred shot off the bed and began digging through her bookcase, sending several pages of Maud’s homework assignment flying. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry Maud. Have you seen my astronomy book?”

“We’re supposed to finish this assignment by this afternoon,” Maud pointed out. “We don’t have an astronomy test for two weeks.”

“I’m not talking about studying,” said Mildred, flinging books about. “I’m talking about helping HB.”

Maud sighed. “You lent it to me, remember?” she admitted, pulling it out of her bag.

“Oh yeah!” Mildred said. “Thanks!” 

Enid crowded around Mildred as she flipped through the textbook, her curiosity about Mildred’s timeline theory more interesting than Maud’s insistence that they study spell science. Maud sighed and tidied her papers away so that she might have a proper look too.

“There, that’s the comet that’s important,” said Mildred, pointing to the page. Her finger ran down the list of dates the comet would be visible this year.

“When’s the next full moon?” asked Mildred.

“Tonight,” said Enid and Maud in unison. Maud was about to chastise Mildred for not keeping track as they were supposed to, but Mildred leapt into the air before she could. 

“I knew it!” said Mildred, practically dancing now “The comet is visible tonight and it’s a full moon. She’ll have to come today. She will.” 

“You’re sure?” asked Enid.

“In the daylight?” added Maud.

“Yes!” Mildred’s excitement turned to alarm. “Oh no! She could be here already! Enid, can you turn the camera back on?”

Enid picked up the maglet. “Should be able to…” she said, fiddling with it. The maglet screen showed static and then a very muddy image of the forest. Or at least, they assumed it was the forest. 

“Why’s it so blurry?” asked Mildred, crestfallen.

“Because the camera is in night mode,” explained Enid. “It won’t work in the daylight.”

“Then we’ll have to go back and change it,” declared Mildred. “We’ve got to catch her before tonight’s full moon.”

“Are you mad!?” Maud demanded. “You want to sneak out of the castle in the middle of the day, to go out into a forest where you might very well run into an evil sorceress. Besides we’ve got chanting in twenty-five minutes.”

“You’ll just have to cover for me then,” said Mildred, her mind made up. “We can’t let HB take the blame for something that isn’t her fault.” 

“But Mildred...” Maud floundered. “What if you _do_ run into Miss Broomhead. What then?”

“Maud’s got a point,” Enid said. “It’s too dangerous, Mil.”

Mildred thought hard. There had to be some way to do it without being caught. Then, Mildred had a wonderful,  _marvelous_ idea.

“I’ll be invisible!” she exclaimed. “The third years were making invisibility potions this morning, remember? At least the ingredients will still be in the potions lab.” Mildred looked at her watch. “Twenty-four minutes until chanting, that’s got to be enough time to brew one.” 

It was a better plan than just marching into the wood without anything, but Enid and Maud still looked anxious. 

“I’ll take my maglet,” said Mildred, desperate to convince her friends. “I’ll message you if I’m in any trouble. Please, HB needs our help.” 

Enid and Maud looked at each other helplessly.

“Fine.”

* * *

It only took the three girls fifteen minutes to brew the invisibility potion – thank you to the Year Three for never putting away their ingredients properly. HB would have been appalled, but since she wasn’t around certain liberties were being taken under the lax instruction of Miss Grundy.

“The spell should wear off in four hours,” said Maud, as Mildred’s torso began to disappear. “You have to be back by then.”

Mildred grinned as more and more of her disappeared. Magic was so cool. “I will be,” she said, beaming. “You’ll tell Miss Bat I’m not feeling well?”

“You got it, Millie,” said Enid. 

“Be _careful”_ implored Maud. Enid nodded seriously. 

“I’ll be careful,” said Mildred earnestly. “I promise.”

* * *

 

Ada and Hecate materialized in Hecate’s bedroom and Hecate deposited her books on the nightstand before flopping down dramatically onto the bed. When it became apparent that she intended to sleep like that, Ada tutted.  

“Surely, you’d be more comfortable _in_ your bed, Hecate? Or at the very least take off your shoes.”

Hecate made a noise of protest that was muffled by her pillow.

“Come on, my dear. Where’s your nightgown, I’ll help.”

Hecate grumbled, but she raised a hand to summon her nightgown, so tired she didn’t think that perhaps magic was not the best idea. The garment shot out from under her pillow at breakneck speed and smacked Ada squarely in the chest.

“Sorry,” Hecate mumbled, as Ada suppressed a chuckle.

“Never mind, no harm done.” Now that Ada had the nightgown it was no trouble to snap her fingers and swap it for Hecate’s regular clothes.

Hecate murmured a thank you into her pillow. Ada smiled at her and shook out the blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed. With a great degree of care, she tucked it around Hecate, hoping it would be enough to keep her comfortable.

“Sweet dreams, Hecate.” Ada whispered, though Hecate might very well have already been asleep. Unable to resist, Ada pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before straightening up.

She scanned the stack of books Hecate had left on the nightstand and grabbed a copy of _True Love’s Kiss and Other Unconventional Healing Magic t_ hat was second from the top. While Hecate slept, perhaps Ada would do a little reading of her own.


	11. One Last Ingredient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ada and Hecate experiment with their magic and Mildred is, predictably, in a mountain of trouble.

Ada was well into her fifth chapter of _True Loves Kiss and Other Unconventional Healing Magic, (_ and her second custard tart) when there was a knock on her office door. She’d no sooner beckoned the visitor in than Hecate appeared, slipping in silently and closing the door gently behind her.

It had only been a few hours, but Ada thought she looked considerably better. She did, however, stay hovering near the door, as if she might need to duck out at any moment.

Ada smiled and set the book aside. It had proved quite educational. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Hecate said, her voice slightly raspy from disuse. She cleared her throat. “How is the…reading?”

“Enlightening,” said Ada. “If a little bit…” Ada searched for the right word. There was lots of anecdotal evidence presented, but cases varied widely and the book was heavy on theories but rather light on explanation.

“Imprecise?” Hecate supplied, tilting her head.

“Yes, something like that,” Ada agreed, setting the book aside. “I admit, I have more questions now than answers.” 

“So did I,” Hecate admitted. She took a few steps towards Ada, tentative and unsure. “I did wonder,” she looked at the floor, her hands balled tight at her sides. “When I woke up, if I’d…dreamed the whole thing.”

Ada smiled knowingly at her and stood up, reaching her hand out to offer it to Hecate. Hecate relaxed slightly and took Ada’s hand without hesitation, grateful for the anchor. She ran her thumb over Ada’s knuckles, marveling for a moment at how intimate it felt just standing there.

“Not a dream then,” Hecate murmured finally, her lip curling up into a small smile. 

“No,” Ada promised her.

Hecate’s eyes met Ada’s, her expression brimming affection and longing. “Good, then there’s something I wanted to…to do.”

Ada felt her heart pounding in her chest as Hecate leaned in. The way Hecate was looking at her, like she was the most precious thing in the entire world, was enough to make Ada flustered and giddy all at once. Her eyes fluttered closed as Hecate captured Ada’s lips with her own, pressing softly. Ada melted into the kiss, almost dizzy with delight. Hecate’s arms wrapped around the shorter witch, her hands splayed across Ada’s back, pulling her closer.

When they finally broke apart, Ada was beaming and Hecate couldn’t bring herself to let go of them embrace.

“I’ve…wanted to do that for a long time,” Hecate admitted, her forehead almost touching Ada’s.

“I’m so glad you did,” replied Ada, curling her fingers around Hecate’s collar and pulling herself up to place a kiss on Hecate’s cheek. Something inside Hecate lurched again, her magic or some tiny version of it surging forward, involuntary seeking Ada’s. Hecate froze, unsure.

“It’s alright,” said Ada soothingly, a gentle calming spell spilling from her fingertips. “It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Hecate swallowed. “It feels very strange,” she said, trying to tamp down on her powers, which despite Ada’s spell were twisting uncomfortably in her chest.

“I’m sure it does,” Ada sympathized. She wanted nothing more than to make it better. “Have you given any thought to the two of us channeling more magic together?” 

As if Ada wouldn’t be doing all the work. Hecate ducked her head, nodding slightly in affirmation.

“Would you like to try now?”

Hecate’s head snapped up, surprised that Ada was as keen as she was. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t see why not.” There was no time like the present as far as Ada was concerned.

Hecate nodded again, but then furrowed her brow. “Everything I’ve read was fairly theoretical,” she said. “I’m not quite sure how”

“Nor I,” admitted Ada. “Why don’t we sit?” She vanished the coffee table and placed an oversized cushion on the floor in its place. They arranged themselves cross legged facing each other. It was as natural a position as any other, being similar to joint spells they’d cast in several rituals over the years. Hecate sat perfectly straight, feeling her weight pressing down into floor and her body pulled taunt towards the ceiling. It was how she felt most comfortable, most powerful. Ada faced her, her shoulders similarly dropped, but her head bent down, focusing on the tiny space between them. She extended her hands, palms facing upwards and Hecate placed her hands delicately in them.

There was a moment of silence.

“Ready?” Ada whispered, squeezing Hecate’s hands gently.

The was a fear clawing at Hecate’s throat and it came spilling out before she could stop it. “Ada? What? What…would it mean if it doesn’t work?”

Ada let out a soft sigh, wishing Hecate would look at her. “Then it won’t work,” she admitted. “But, Hecate.” Ada paused, squeezing Hecate’s hands tighter. “I’ll tell you what it could never mean. It could never mean I don’t love you.”

Hecate let out a breath. “Yes,” she said, blinking rapidly. She willed the anxiety twisting through her to go away.

Ada ran her thumbs across the back of Hecate’s hands. “I promise you that,” she added.

Hecate nodded. “Alright then.” 

Ada smiled at her and both witches closed their eyes, focusing on the connection between them. A trickle of power, as light and gentle as Ada could manage spread slowly over Hecate’s palms. Hecate tried to relax into the feeling, just concentrating on observing it for now, despite the desperate pulling from her own magic that longed to interact. A soft orange glow emanated from where they were touching, growing slowly as Ada’s magic pooled in Hecate’s hands. It felt warm and soft, like Ada herself. Slowly, Hecate allowed herself to breath it into her body. Her own magic pulsed in time to her heartbeat, longing for Hecate to let it go. 

Hecate felt her magic surge forward, sharp and swift. Violently, it burst from Hecate’s carefully constructed confines and she gasped, sure that it would hurt Ada. She tried to yank it away, tearing her hands from Ada’s grip and scrambling backwards on all fours.

“Hecate.” Ada’s voice was calm, unworried as an arc of lightning shot from Hecate’s chest towards her. Before any harm was done, a wave of Ada’s magic washed over them both, calming everything with ease. She cast continuously and it placated Hecate’s turbulent magic, smoothing the rough edges and gently bringing it down to a more manageable hum.  

Hecate’s eyes were swimming with tears and she tried to regain her equilibrium. She could feel Ada’s hands on her arms, hear her voice coaxing her with gentle, mindless, comforting words. She closed her eyes and leaning forward she buried her face in Ada’s soft magenta sweater.

“There, there,” Ada was saying, rocking Hecate ever so slightly and continuing to cast the calming pulses. “It’s alright.”

Hecate felt it was like standing in the ocean, wave after wave pouring over her, dancing with her in a steady rhythmic sway. Eventually it was easier to breath and easier to clamp down on her powers. 

“I won’t let you hurt me, my darling,” Ada whispered. “I promise.” 

Hecate wanted to believe her, but every instinct said to protect Ada and that was not what she had just done. She pressed down hard on her power, trying to box it on all sides. Safe. Controlled. Where she couldn’t hurt anyone.

Ada could feel the resistance, the way Hecate was holding back. “You can let it come out, Hecate. It will be alright.” 

“I can’t,” Hecate insisted. “It attacked you.” She couldn’t bare the idea of losing control and she couldn’t believe Ada had convinced her this was a good idea. “I…I’m afraid.”  

“I know,” said Ada. “But I’m alright.”

Hecate felt her magic crackle in her chest, hot and angry. She couldn’t risk it touching Ada, not for a second.   

“We don’t know what we’re doing,” Hecate cried. “Don’t you see that? What if I…what if you…”

“Alright,” said Ada, ceasing any magic directed at Hecate immediately. “It’s alright. We’ll stop.” 

Hecate was crying in earnest now, silently doubled over in Ada’s lap. Ada stroked her head, her neck, down her back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m sorry,” Hecate wept. “I can’t.”

“It’s alright, my dear,” Ada said, “We don’t have to do this now. Or ever. It’s up to you, alright?”

Hecate regained some composure at Ada’s words. Once the flow of magic stopped, her body seemed to settle down to a low, uncomfortable ache, which while unpleasant, wasn’t a reason to panic.  She sat up some with Ada’s assistance, holding onto her much tighter than strictly necessary.

“What can I do?” Ada asked. Her only goal now was to make Hecate as comfortable as possible, whatever that meant.

Hecate ducked her head and leaned into Ada’s open arms. “Hold me?” she asked quietly.

Ada wrapped Hecate up in a hug. “Of course, my dear.”  

* * *

Mildred’s walk to where she, Maud and Enid had placed the video camera was a long one and Mildred wished for the thousandth time that she’d been able to get ahold of a broom. It was much harder to tell where you were going from the ground than in the air. All the landmarks were so much farther apart. 

But Mildred had not started this journey unprepared and she pulled out her compass to make sure she was still going in the right direction. After a hundred paces more, the appearance of the twisted walnut tree that looked like it had a face in it gave her a dose of much needed reassurance. She was close. Just over the next gentle hill.  

Mildred thought Maud’s spell had held well and that the appearance of a mildly irritated thrashing vine was still quite convincing. It was even making a bit of noise as it lazily swung it’s branches about. Mildred fished the video camera out of the bush they’d hidden it in and began searching for the mode button Enid had told her about. After a few false starts, the little moon on the display turned into a tiny blinking sun and Mildred figured she’d gotten it right. She was just about to put it back, when she heard a queer sound. Someone was singing. Or maybe…chanting?

Mildred clutched the camera and peered around, searching for the source of the sound. It seemed nearby, maybe just beyond the clump of trees she was in. As she crept towards it, Mildred could almost make out words.

“…though the iron gates squeal and creak, Lead me to the thing I seek!”

Mildred peeked around a great elm tree to see the witch finish her casting, a strange purple wave emanating out in all directions. Mildred knew that this _must_  be Miss Broomhead. And she was looking for the Devil’s Demon! Mildred hoped Maud’s spell was convincing enough to fool the finding spell. They hadn’t thought of that. But even if she didn’t, Mildred was here now. She ducked down out of sight and flipped the camera to ‘record’. 

Miss Broomhead was frowning. Had something gone wrong with her spell? Mildred felt the butterflies in her stomach performing aerobatics. She just needed a little bit of footage, proving Miss Broomhead was there for the plant and that would be enough to make the Great Wizard see sense. Mildred focused the lens as best she could while still remaining plastered to the forest floor.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise.” Miss Broomhead seemed to be talking to someone, but there was no one else about. She snapped her fingers and Mildred felt her stomach lurch. Poor Mildred cried out as an invisible hook seemed to drag her forward, sending her sprawling at Miss Broomhead’s feet.

She was a short woman. Older, but her exact age was anyone’s guess. When Mildred had pictured her, she’d imagined someone much uglier, but Miss Broomhead looked perfectly ordinary. That was, until she sneered and Mildred felt her insides go cold.

“And what are you doing here?” 

Mildred tried to stand up but found herself unable to move, pinned the ground by some sort of immobilization spell. “I could ask you the same question,” Mildred said, sounding much braver than she felt.

Miss Broomhead looked amused. “What’s your name, little witch?”

“Mildred Hubble,” came the defiant reply.

“Mildred Hubble,” Miss Broomhead’s voice made Mildred shiver. It wasn’t sharp or disappointed like when Miss Hardbroom said her name. It was cloying and playful, as if Miss Broomhead knew a secret that she didn’t. “Well Mildred Hubble. Why don’t you tell me why I’m here? I have a feeling you already know.”

Mildred blinked, determined not to show any fear. “To harvest the Devil’s Demon you think is over there,” she said, trying not to panic at the constricted feeling in her chest as the magic held her uncomfortably tight.  

Miss Broomhead laughed, high and cruel. “You didn’t think I’d fall for your little picture-spell over there? I’m not here for that, you silly girl. That, I’ve already managed to acquire.”

Mildred was confused and Miss Broomhead leaned in, her face inches from Mildred’s. “I,” she declared, “I am here for Miss Hardbroom.”

“Miss Hardbroom is in a lot of trouble because of what you’ve done!” Mildred cried. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?”

“Your loyalty does you credit, Mildred,” Miss Broomhead said, narrowing her eyes at her. And then slowly an awful, wicked smile crept across her features. “And most conveniently,” she continued, as Mildred struggled helplessly against the invisible bonds. “It looks as if you are going to spare Miss Hardbroom after all. You, Mildred Hubble, are my last ingredient.”

Mildred’s eyes went wide. Miss Broomhead grinned, pinched Mildred’s cheek and transferred them both out of sight.


	12. Fear of a Loyal Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: references to past abuse, violation of consent.

As lovely as holding each other might be, it was considerably more comfortable once Hecate permitted Ada to transfer them to her sofa. If Hecate had been paying attention she would have noticed that Ada had enlarged it slightly, so that both of them could recline comfortably, but Hecate’s head was buried in the crook of Ada’s neck and she couldn’t be bothered with the specific dimensions of office furniture just then.

Ada carefully shifted so she might slip off her shoes and prop her legs up without letting go of Hecate. Two cat-adorned slippers fell to the carpet, allowing Ada to stretch out properly. They lay in silence for some time, their bodies pressed together in a way that, despite the somber mood, made Ada feel warm and peaceful. Hecate’s angular frame and Ada’s soft curves fit together in a way that struck Ada as completely natural, as if it had always meant to be. She ran her fingertips lightly up and down Hecate’s arm, trying to keep her own magic as quiet and contained as possible. 

She could ask Hecate if it’s better, but she didn’t need to. The way Hecate relaxed in her arms, her breathing now calm and even was reassurance enough. She wondered if they were both on the brink of sleep when-

“Miss Cackle? Miss Cackle!?” The door to Miss Cackles office was flung open with such a loud bang that Hecate fell right off the sofa in alarm and wound up sprawled on the ground. Into the office tumbled Enid, followed by Maud hot on her heels, both girls panting and shouting over each other.

“Mildred was – and then – I think – TROUBLE.” 

“GIRLS!” cried Miss Hardbroom, scrambling to her feet.

Enid and Maud’s mouths snapped closed, their eyes bulging at Miss Hardbroom as if seeing her for the very first time. Maud looked like she was on the brink of tears.

Ada was on her feet too, a hand resting on the small of Hecate’s back, a gentle encouragement for calm. Even in a crisis she was poised. Steady. “Enid? Maud? What’s happened?” 

Maud and Enid both began to speak over each other again, but Ada silenced them with a raised hand. She beckoned them forward to sit down on a pair of chairs and catch their breath.

“Now, one at a time,” Ada prompted.

Maud explained hastily about the trap they’d set for Miss Broomhead at which point Hecate squeaked and looked as if she were fit to explode. Ada shot her a loaded look, a promise that later she would explain how her private horror had become known to Mildred Hubble, of all people. Maud barreled on, explaining how the camera hadn’t been working and Mildred had taken off to fix it.

As Enid pulled out her maglet to show the last bit of footage the camera had recorded, Hecate grew very pale, clutching at the back of Ada’s chair for support. 

“…and then it just cut out.” Enid cried, tears bubbling over. “And we didn’t know what to do and-“

“Alright,” said Ada, standing quickly. There wasn’t a moment to lose, not with a student in danger. “Near Blackthorn Grove is where she was last so I’ll start there. Hecate, if you would take the girls and inform the other teachers-“

“No,” said Hecate empathetically, sparks dancing around her fingers in a haphazard fashion. More inadvertent magic, Ada noticed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Hecate.”

“If she’s taken Mildred off school grounds, only I can show you where she’s gone,” Hecate insisted. “The girls can apprise Miss Drill of the situation, but I’m coming with you. Malfunctioning magic _be damned_.” 

She left no room for argument and Ada was forced to agree, even if she didn’t like the idea very much. “Alright, girls? Straight to Miss Drill. The minute we leave the gates, the school is on lockdown. Do you understand?” 

Enid and Maud both nodded and Ada snapped her fingers to summon Miss Drill into her office.

“Sorry, Dimity,” Ada apologized as Dimity looked around in surprise. “The girls will explain. Hecate?”

Hecate took Ada’s outstretched hand and in a flash, they were gone.

* * *

 Hecate had been right, there was no sign of Mildred or Miss Broomhead in the woods except for a telltale circle of wilted grass near what remained of Maud’s glamour spell. Ada would have spent more time admiring the spell work, had the situation not been so urgent. Instead she turned her attention to their one clue, the dying plants that formed an uncanny sort of void in an otherwise lush wood.

Hecate glared at the circle. Bad magic always left scars of some kind or another. She ought to know.

Ada poked at the circle with a stick to see how potent the magic that lingered was. The stick began crumbling into ash and Ada dropped it like a hot poker. Recent, then. That was something. She couldn't have been gone for long.

“Hecate?” Hecate was staring at the remains of the stick, unblinking.  

Ada folded her arms, considering. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up. “Hecate, why would Broomhead have taken her? Fewer witnesses? Why not a memory charm then? It makes no sense.” 

Hecate shook her head slowly, eyes still trained on the circle on the forest floor. Like a hint of perfume that lingered in an empty room, Hecate could sense Broomhead’s specific magic at work. Familiar and sweet and painful. It wasn’t drowning her as it once had, but the memories it brought were vivid and alarming. It wasn’t until Ada put a hand on her arm that she was able to tear herself away. 

“She’ll have use for Mildred,” came Hecate’s voice. “She was probably intent on using me, but she found Mildred and…and Mildred was trying to help me.”

Ada’s hand tightened on Hecate’s arm. “Needs her?”

“For her spell,” Hecate explained, her eyes wide, her heart beating rapidly. “She’s going to use Mildred for her spell.”

Ada looked positively horrified. Hecate glanced up at the sky. There were only a few hours of daylight left, and then a full moon would rise.

“I know where she’s gone,” Hecate said. “The preparation will take hours by herself. She’ll already be there.”

“At the graveyard?” Ada surmised.

“Of sorts,” said Hecate, wince at the image in her mind.

“Where is it?” Ada demanded, unable to keep the fear out of her voice completely.

“I…I don’t know how to tell you.” Hecate stammered, anxiety growing every second. “It’s hidden, you need to have been there to get there.”  

Ada swallowed as Hecate paced back and forth. “If I had my magic I could be there already,” she cried, wringing her hands. “I don’t know how-“

“Could I help?” Ada asked. “If I cast the transference spell, could you direct it?”

Hecate stopped in her tracks. “I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. It was risky. Very risky, given her current state and all that could go wrong with transference spells. 

“We could test it,” Ada suggested. “Over a very short distance.” 

Hecate nodded in agreement, despite the fear bearing down on her chest. They had to try. She took Ada’s outstretched hand and they locked eyes.

“Ten feet in that direction,” Ada suggested, tilting her head to the left.

Hecate frowned. “I need to pick the destination, or you’ll direct it without meaning to,” she pointed out. 

“Right.” 

Hecate looked around and made a decision. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, giving Ada’s hands a squeeze.

The familiar sensation of Ada’s magic engulfed the pair of them and Hecate felt as if her body was being pulled in every direction. She focused as hard as she could on their destination, even as her own magic leapt with enthusiasm and jerked them both forward.

They stumbled as they reappeared several feet away. Ada brushed herself off and straighten up. “Where you meant us to be?” she asked.

Hecate almost smiled. “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. Taking a deep breath, she checked her pocket watch. They couldn’t afford to spend any more of their time practicing, as much as Hecate might want a few more easier ones before attempting to transport them halfway to Yorkshire and through several magic barriers. 

“The next one is going to be considerably more difficult,” she warned Ada, feeling obligated to give Ada a way out even if she’d never take it.

Ada ran her hand down Hecate’s arm in a soothing fashion. “We’ll manage,” she said with a determined little nod. “I’m certain.” 

Hecate did not share Ada’s certainty, but Ada’s look of determination did buoy Hecate’s spirits. In her chest, her magic was turning shaky cartwheels.

“Hold on tight,” Hecate urged. “It’s certain to be bumpy.”

Ada grasped Hecate’s hands as tightly as she dared. “Just like before, only with a little more kick,” she promised Hecate, letting the magic flow.

Hecate nodded and the pair of them dissolved in a shower of colour.

* * *

Bumpy would turn out to be an understatement. After rattling around for what felt like an age in indeterminate space, Hecate and Ada landed hard, falling forward onto damp earth in a strange place. Clouds that seemed too dark and too thick to be real blotted out the sunlight and there was a strange scent was in the air, wafting towards the pair of them over the rolling hills. 

Hecate was just pulling herself up out of a puddle when the distinct sound of a crackling fire drew her attention. She looked around nervously, orienting herself. 

“This way,” she all but whispered to Ada, indicating her head toward the hill. Ada stared incredulously at Hecate’s outstretched hand – not an offer she’d known from Hecate in their entire fifteen-year history. 

After a split second of hesitation, Ada grasped Hecate’s hand and Hecate smiled grimly at her. It turned out to be a practical decision, because this hill was muddy and difficult to climb. As they neared the top, a voice on the wind turned Hecate’s veins to ice. 

_“Bones of an ancient one,_

_a poet’s lost dream._

_The fear of a loyal witch,_

_hear her scream!”_  

A cry pierced the air but it wasn’t that of a young girl in pain. It was Hecate, having stumbled a good way forward, propelled by on magic that seemed to be a chaotic web of her own making. 

“Stop it!” Hecate shouted. Ada scrambled forward to see what was happening.

It was the smallest graveyard that Ada had ever seen, just three great gleaming stones. A small figure – Mildred Hubble, Ada realized with a lurch, recognizing the girls signature braids – was pinned to the closest headstone, held fast by some invisible magic. In front of her was a cauldron, perched on a roaring fire and emitting a thick black smoke that cast an uncanny haze over the proceedings. A woman, Miss Broomhead without a doubt, was peering through the artificial darkness at them, her face like thunder.

Before Hecate and Ada could so much as exchange glances, they both felt a wave of cold sweep over them, freezing them in place. Hecate gasped and sputtered as the chill squeezed her chest and stiffened every muscle. Of course, Miss Broomhead’s choice would have been a particularly painful petrification spell. It should be a difficult one to maintain for long, Hecate thought, but that conclusion hinged on her having her full powers to push against it, and Hecate didn’t have anything of the sort.

Miss Broomhead flexed her fingers and slowly the two immobilized witches were dragged towards her. Hecate was unable to wince as her ankle scraped against the ground. 

“Hecate Hardbroom.” A hard voice pierced through Hecate’s head as Miss Broomhead came into clear view. “What precisely are you doing?”

Hecate went to open her mouth, but it was locked shut by the power of the petrification spell. Miss Broomhead looked surprised and glanced from Hecate to Ada. “And Miss Cackle, I must say I am surprised to see you here as well.”

“That’s my pupil,” came Ada’s voice, it’s ferocity giving Hecate heart. “And I must insist you let her go immediately.”

“The girl is free to go when the spell is complete,” Miss Broomhead said. “Which you so _rudely_ interrupted.” 

Miss Broomhead’s eyes flashed over Hecate’s frozen form again and she hesitated. “What’s happened to you, Hecate?” She took a step forward, unable to help her burning curiosity.

Hecate’s chest was a box of firecrackers, her magic roiling about in unmitigated chaos, unable to organize some kind of defense against Miss Broomhead’s spell.

Miss Broomhead waved a hand and Hecate’s mouth fell open.

“Let Mildred go,” Hecate spat.

Miss Broomhead ignored her, leaning closer. “Very peculiar,” she muttered, frowning. She brought her hand up mere inches from Hecate’s nose. Ada watched, silent and helpless, as the awful witch cast a probing spell over Hecate, searching for what was different.

Miss Broomhead’s laugh at her discovery was a sharp, cold sound that pierced Ada’s heart. “All this beautiful power, Hecate, and no order, no control? Now where have I seen that before? You need a teacher, my dear.” 

Ada’s eyes widened as Miss Broomhead slammed her palm into Hecate’s chest, pouring her magic into Hecate’s body with unrelenting ferocity. If she could have screamed, she would have. If she could have launched herself at Miss Broomhead or hexed her into oblivion, she would have. Instead she could do nothing but watch in abject horror. The witch was clearly enjoying herself, Ada thought, whatever she was doing. Miss Broomhead was too gleeful for it to be anything but awful. Hecate’s eyes had gone from painfully wide to rolled back, her mouth twisting in agony. Ada felt the ground beneath her feet and realized she could wiggle her toes. Miss Broomhead’s spell was weakening, likely from her distraction. Ada fought back the urge to release all of her power against the petrification spell, fearful of the attention it would draw. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused on Hecate’s presence. If only she could reach out and touch her…

* * *

 

Miss Broomhead’s was magic that was familiar to Hecate, bringing her back to the halls of her university, to the particular feeling of standing in Miss Broomhead’s workroom. She could hear her admonishments, her bouts of frustration with her that Hecate longed to atone for. The feeling of needing to do more, to be more for her. There was a time Hecate would have given anything to surrender this much of her magic at her mentors’ feet, but she’d never been able to let her have it. Now there was nothing stopping Miss Broomhead from taking it all and twisting it as she pleased. The more Hecate tried to pull it away from her, to protect what little of herself that she could, the more frenzied everything around her became. 

“Hecate.”  

Ada’s voice was so faint that Hecate almost didn’t notice it, her head swimming as it was. But it was so clearly Ada, soft and distant.

Hecate realized her eyes were closed and when she ventured to open them there was nothing to see but shadows around her, great looming spectres of every wicked thing she’d ever seen, ever done.

“Hecate.”

Ada’s voice again, quiet but persistent. For a moment, she could have sworn she caught a whiff of Ada’s perfume. Sweet, but not overly so, with a hint of floral. Ada had worn it for as long as Hecate had known her and there was no mistaking it.

 _Ada?_ Hecate’s lips didn’t move when she told them to, but the thought cut through the din in her mind. Over the racket of Miss Broomhead shouting, her head splitting, and the feeling of her skin bubbling and burning came a quiet, firm declaration.

“Hecate, I’m right here.”

Ada shouldn’t be here, not in this place. Hecate tried to tell her, tried to warn her to go back, but she didn’t even know where she was. A faint light appeared in Hecate’s field of vision, cutting through the gloom. It solidified into a golden thread that snaked towards Hecate’s feet, immune to the flurry of shadows around them.

“Hecate. Please come back to me.”

The proximity of Ada’s magic made Hecate’s heart pound rapidly. It felt wrong for Ada to see her here, to know her like this. When Miss Broomhead was in control of her magic there was nothing good in her any longer. Maybe there never had been, maybe Ada would see that now that she’d been lying to her since the beginning-

 _You know that’s rubbish, Hecate Hardbroom._ The voice wasn’t Ada’s this time, it was her own. She wasn’t Miss Broomhead’s pet anymore, and she refused to let her make her feel this way for one more second, or to take what _wasn’t rightly hers._

Hecate reached for the golden thread with all of her might and to her surprise it snapped up into her outstretched hand. She could feel Ada’s magic humming through it, steady and safe. Her own magic burst forth, seeking Ada’s, and Hecate let it. 

A great many things happened at once. The darkness lifted, leaving Hecate looking Miss Broomhead defiantly in the eye for a fraction of a second, before the force of Hecate’s and Ada’s combined magic cracked Miss Broomhead’s hold and sent her flying backwards. Mildred’s binding spell cracked as well and she rushed forward, kicking the cauldron over and dosing the fire with thick black sludge that gurgled and sparked. Ada and Hecate were drawn together with such speed that Hecate feared she winded Ada by slamming into her chest, but Ada remained upright and steady, grasping Hecate by the shoulders to prevent her from sliding to the ground. A soft golden glow surrounded the pair of them like a protective aura, and Hecate wasn’t sure where her magic ended and Ada’s begun. The confinement charm came from the pair of them as naturally as breathing and Miss Broomhead’s limbs snapped to her sides as she collapsed onto the ground, unmoving.

There was a beat of silence as Mildred, Ada, and Hecate stared at Miss Broomhead. The glow surrounding Ada and Hecate faded slowly, and Hecate began to feel the earth solid beneath her feet, the wind on her face, and Ada’s arm around her waist. The world had righted itself.

Mildred broke the silence. “Do you think we could melt her with a bucket of water?”

Hecate looked confused but Ada laughed, a bright cheerful sound that made Hecate’s heart soar.

“We’ll leave that decision to the Great Wizard,” Ada told her, accepting Mildred’s grateful hug with her free arm. Ada glanced at Hecate. “I think we ought to go inform him of his options.” 

Hecate nodded and she smiled softly at Ada. “Indeed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I planned to end this fic at 12 chapters, but I've decided there will be one more to wrap up Hecate and Ada's story. Look for the epilogue coming soon. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love as I wrote this, especially to cassiopeiasara, bigbaddoctorwolfe, and my Tumblr peeps for encouraging me when I was stressed and sad about this story. You're the absolute best.


	13. Epilogue

_Six months later…_

When Ada woke that morning, Hecate was already up and sitting stiffly in a chair on the far side of the room, pretending to read. Pretending, Ada surmised, because Hecate’s eyes weren’t actually travelling down the page, instead she just blinked at the same spot while drumming her fingers repeatedly on the arm of the chair.

Ada shifted and Hecate’s head snapped up. At once Hecate was on her feet and crossing over to Ada, before changing her mind and deciding that storming Ada, who’d been awake for a grand total of fifteen seconds, wasn’t the kindest choice. She spun on her heel and began to pace instead.

Ada hastily wiped the sleep from her eyes and practically bounced out of bed, in part because she was terribly excited, and in part because Hecate was wearing a hole in the carpet of the bedroom floor. 

“Today’s the day,” Ada announced, entirely unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Hecate breathed, twisting her hands together. She was already dressed, her hair neatly twisted up in her signature style and her makeup impeccable. Ada wondered how long she’d been awake. Since dawn, probably. And no wonder.

Ada glanced at the clock on the wall. “The girls don’t arrive for another two hours,” Ada reminded her gently. It didn’t seem to have any effect, if anything Hecate looked more anxious. Ada tried a different approach. “How is it today?” she asked, pulling on her dressing gown. She never got dressed before breakfast if she didn’t have to, and this would be the last day that would be true for some time.

Hecate promptly materialized a full, steaming hot breakfast tray on the side table in answer. “Fine,” she decided, peering critically at the loaded tray as if searching for some kind of flaw in the execution of her spell. She prodded the stack of pancakes with a silver fork. “A bit wobbly, perhaps. But acceptable.” 

“That could just be nerves,” remarked Ada, looking far more approvingly at the tray than Hecate had. 

“Nerves and magic-“

“-don’t mix, I know,” said Ada, regretting her word choice. She looked at Hecate’s nervous expression. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Ada, what if…” Hecate trailed off uncertainly. Her hands balled up into tight fists in an effort to stop fidgeting. If she couldn’t control herself, then she couldn’t control-

“Hecate?” Hecate hadn’t registered Ada walking over to her or what, if anything, she’d been saying. Hecate swallowed thickly.

“What?”

Ada reached for Hecate’s forearm, clasping it gently. “If you’re really not ready, we can find a substitute,” she said. “But I know how much you’ve been wanting to go back and Barty thinks you’re ready.”   

Hecate closed her eyes and nodded once. “And he’s right, I am ready,” she said decisively. “I know you think so, too.” 

Ada smiled. “Yes, I do.” Hecate looked more uncomfortable rather than less and Ada gave her arm a squeeze. “What is it, my dear?”

“You believe I’m ready,” Hecate said, staring over Ada’s shoulder. “And I don’t…want to be a disappointment.” 

“Oh, Hecate.” Ada cupped Hecate’s cheek and Hecate looked at her, blinking away tears. “You couldn’t possibly,” Ada promised. “And if it’s too much, we’ll sort something out. But even if it is, you could never disappoint me.” 

Hecate nodded slowly. Ada’s eyes were soft and sincere and Hecate loved her for it. “Thank you,” Hecate whispered.

Ada leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Hecate’s mouth. “Of course,” she murmured.

Hecate responded by wrapping her arms around Ada and pulling her close, comforted as much by her presence as her words. Ada nestled into the embrace, her cheek resting against Hecate’s heart.

“Would you like our session before breakfast?” Ada asked. 

Hecate released a breath. “You know me well.”

Ada smiled. “That I do.”

* * *

 “Breathe, Hecate.” Ada’s voice was calm, but insistent. Hecate couldn’t help it, every time Ada’s fingers twined with hers and let her magic curled lovingly into Hecate’s body, it took her breath away. They were sitting, a plush red carpet separating them from the stark, bare hardwood floor, and at least if Hecate fainted (as she had on only one previous occasion) it would be a soft landing. She inhaled shakily and opened her eyes to see Ada gazing at her. Ada’s eyes were so beautifully blue, Hecate thought. An ocean of calm, sparkling in the sunlight as she smiled at Hecate. Hecate exhaled slowly.

“Good,” Ada murmured, giving Hecate’s hands a squeeze.

Hecate felt the swell of Ada’s magic rising gently and she relaxed into the motion of it. Happily, her own power responded, spilling forward and mingling with Ada’s own. It washed through her, strengthening and stretching through the meridians of her body, until Hecate felt her extremities starting to tingle with the act of keeping it contained.   

“There,” Hecate said quietly, enjoying the fullness and presence of magic humming beneath her fingertips.

“Would you like me to hold it for a moment?” Ada asked. Hecate nodded and Ada held the flow of power steady, accepting and returning exactly what Hecate offered her in an endless loop. She could feel Hecate’s confidence, her nervous energy giving way to a smoother and more refined one that Ada had always associated with her. That was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent of delight too, a quiet joy that Ada well understood now.

There would come a time when this practice of sharing magic in their mornings and evenings, strengthening Hecate’s power and letting it settle into the fullness of her ability, would be unnecessary. Happy as that made her for Hecate’s sake, Ada thought she might come to miss the intimacy of it. Hecate’s love and trust in her was palpable when they did this and it made Ada’s heart sing. It took a significant toll to do – more and more with Hecate’s growing strength – but it was a weight Ada delighted in for every second she could manage it.

Hecate was delighted, too, that much was clear to Ada from the blissful expression on her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to extend their session too long knowing she didn’t actually need Ada to sustain it.   

“Thank you,” Hecate said quietly, giving Ada’s hands a squeeze. Ada took her cue and gently retreated, letting Hecate’s power expand further without the presence of Ada occupying space. For months there had been an emptiness that both of them had struggled to fill together and now Hecate managed it with less and less effort each day.

They waited a moment in the stillness, together but apart, hands still clasped tight. 

“Feeling better?” Ada asked finally, smiling for she knew the answer. Hecate surged forward, her lips meeting Ada’s, a response that felt truer than any words she could have managed. Ada hummed and kissed Hecate back, matching her enthusiasm.

Hecate released Ada’s hands in favour of threading her fingers through Ada’s hair instead and pulling her closer until Ada was half in Hecate’s lap, kissing now for all they were worth. That was its own kind of shared magic, the softness of Ada’s lips on hers, the warmth of holding her as close as Hecate had always longed too. It would never, could never, not be magic to her.  

* * *

The first day of a new term was always a whirlwind from start to finish and this one proved no exception. Very little actual teaching was ever accomplished, though Hecate felt her impression on the new first years was sufficient. If anything, this lot seemed more terrified of her than usual, which wasn’t a bad place to begin the year in her opinion. She had spent some of the last week reviewing their entrance exams when Ada wasn’t looking and concluded the crop fair but workable. Now if they could only apply themselves. 

The second years – well, Clarice – gave her the most grief asking invasive questions about her health which bordered on impertinence. Hecate ceased this line of inquiry by doubling the potions homework for the lot of them, which didn’t seem to bother Clarice as much as Hecate had thought it ought to. Perhaps her peers inevitably wheedling her for help that evening would resolve that and if not, well, there was more than one way to skin a salamander.

Not that Hecate would ever admit it, but she was quite relieved to see her third years at the end of the day, not only because a single lesson stood between her and a well deserved rest. Mildred, Enid, and Maud lined themselves up neatly in the second row as if everything were perfectly ordinary. And it was, with the possible exception that when Mildred inevitably dropped her mortar and pestle Hecate couldn’t bring herself to be more than mildly irked with the girl.

When the mortar smashed on the stone floor, Mildred’s eyes had gone wide and she looked to Hecate expecting the worst, but she'd been greeted only by a tight smirk. 

“Do you know how to fix it, Mildred?” 

“Erm, yes Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred bit her lip and waved her hands, compelling the broken pieces of marble leapt back onto the bench and shakily reassembled themselves. Pleased with herself for getting it right on the first try, Mildred smiled nervously at her teacher.

Hecate raised her eyebrows and crooked one bony finger, gathering a stream of fine red powder off the floor and directing it into the repaired vessel. 

“Next time don’t forget the _ingredients,_ Mildred.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Or better yet, do not drop it at all,” Hecate added under her breath, though she knew such a hope was probably pointless. She glanced down at her pocket watch and declared that it was time the girls cleaned their workstations.

Third years were seasoned enough by now to put their potions equipment away without Hecate’s assistance and they did so hastily, excited to head off to supper. Only Mildred lingered in the doorway as Hecate busied herself with marking down the changes to their inventory after today’s dreaming draughts. 

“Miss Hardbroom?”

“Yes, Mildred, what is it?” Hecate’s tone was snappier than perhaps Mildred deserved, but the girl was the only thing standing between Hecate and the rest she dearly wanted.

Mildred looked unperturbed. “I just wanted to say that it’s splendid to have you back.”

“Splendid,” Hecate repeated carefully, as if the word were completely foreign. 

“Miss Rathsburn didn’t teach us nearly as much stuff as you do,” Mildred added sincerely. The substitute had been, well, wholly underwhelming. Potions had gone from the most stressful slot of Mildred’s timetable to the dullest.

Hecate frowned deeper. “Perhaps then I ought to assign your class some additional material to be sure you haven’t fallen too far behind…” she drawled.

Mildred’s smile didn’t waiver. “I…I think we’re okay,” she said, thinking of all the prep she ought to do tonight when all she wanted was to catch up with Maud and Enid. 

“Another time then,” Hecate said dryly, giving Mildred a look.

“Uh, sure!” said Mildred, taking her cue to depart. “Thank you, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate nodded and Mildred dashed away, missing her teacher’s private smile.

* * *

The fire in the grate of Ada’s office had almost turned to embers when Hecate’s ears alerted her to the sound of Ada’s distinct footfalls in the hall.

“The girls are all tucked into bed,” Ada announced as she pushed through the door wearily. She leaned against the doorframe, catching her breath after having walked the length of the castle twice ensuring all the girls were settled on their first night back.

“Hopefully they stay that way,” remarked Hecate, standing. She summoned Ada's maglet. "This  _thing_ has been chiming since you left," she said, looking perturbed.

Ada laughed at the three notifications from B. Bartholomew. “He’s still quite keen on writing that paper on us, I see,” she said, skimming through them quickly. 

“I’m still quite keen on him not, thank you very much,” Hecate said haughtily.

Ada placed a gentle hand on Hecate’s arm. “I know, my dear. You’ve made your feelings quite clear on the matter.”

Hecate hesitated. “You don’t mind do you?”

Ada shook her head, quick to reassure Hecate that her feelings were not a problem.

“It’s not…It’s just…” Hecate looked quite uncomfortable. “I don’t think I could explain it if I tried,” she said finally.

“It’s your own private affair,” said Ada, thinking of their shared magic session that morning. “I understand, Hecate.” 

“Ours,” said Hecate very quietly, slipping her arm around Ada’s waist.

“Hmm?” 

“Our private affair,” Hecate clarified, pressing a kiss to Ada’s temple.

Ada’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Yes,” she agreed. She reached up to stroke Hecate’s cheek and tried in vain to stifle a yawn. 

“Thank you for taking rounds tonight,” Hecate sighed, the weight of her exhaustion starting to make itself visible. “Tomorrow-“  

Ada tapped her finger against Hecate’s pocket watch, the dull clink interrupting Hecate’s thought. “It’s almost ten, my love” she said. “No more work, remember?” 

“As you wish, Miss Cackle,” said Hecate with exaggerated docility. 

Ada laughed. “Cheeky,” she remarked, yawning again.

“Bed time for us too then,” Hecate declared, raising her hand to transfer.

Ada raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?” she asked, glancing at Hecate’s upturned hand. 

Hecate paused. “Together?” .

Ada smiled and raised her own hand to mirror Hecate’s. “Of course.” And with a swirl of shared magic, Ada and Hecate transferred to their newly shared bedroom and went to bed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read the entire work to the end, I thank you for sticking with me. I hope you've enjoyed it. And thanks to all you lovely people in TWW fandom who cheered me on, I appreciate it immensely. 
> 
> I've learned a lot from writing this little 4k-hurt/comfort fic-accidentally-turned-novella both about writing in general and about this lovely Worst Witch world. There is another multi-chapter Hackle fic in the works. Until next time <3


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